


Groundhog Day

by Zeplerfer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Based on the movie, M/M, Small Town America, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/pseuds/Zeplerfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is stuck interviewing a relentlessly cheerful American weatherman at the annual Groundhog Day event in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. It feels like his miserable day will never end... but maybe spending more time with the cute American will help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. April Fool's Chapter

**[Note! This is the April Fool's Edition. Unless you like Rick Astley, skip to the next chapter for the regular one!]**

" _Never gonna give you up_ ," the radio setting on the alarm clock crooned as Arthur groaned and tried to find the snooze button. " _Never gonna let you down._ " He blinked at the numbers and groaned again. " _Never gonna run around and desert you_."

"Shut up," Arthur grumbled. His pounding head told him that the butterscotch schnapps the night before had been a mistake, but drinking seemed like such a reasonable response to being assigned to work on a fluff piece on silly American weather traditions in the backwoods of Pennsylvania. At least it was only one day, he reminded himself.

As Arthur began the arduous process of rolling out of bed, a chipper American voice giving a weather forecast followed the end of the song. "Rise and shine, folks! And don't forget your booties because it's cold out there!" the announcer said cheerfully. "Plan on icy roads later today because the National Weather Service is calling for a big blizzard thingie. But don't worry! The weather should be clear for the festivities this morning, so come on down to Gobbler's Knob to see our finest and furriest weatherman make his prediction. The big question on everyone's mind today―"

The relentlessly cheerful voice was too much for Arthur to handle. He knocked the alarm to the ground and grinned in satisfaction as the inane chatter finally stopped. The Brit stumbled to the bathroom. Ignoring the relentless drumbeats of pain in his head, he washed his face and scowled at his bloodshot eyes. He remembered drinking during his university days without any ill effects, but ever since turning thirty the year before, the hangovers seemed much worse. Or perhaps it was his drinking that had gotten worse.

The smell of bacon wafting in from the hallway made Arthur queasy, but he headed down to the dining room anyway after a quick shower and a change of clothes. With any luck, his bed and breakfast would have a nice cup of tea to help him feel human again.

It was a decent enough bed-and-breakfast. The rooms were spacious and the furniture was comfortable. It was certainly much better than the fleabag Motel 6 where his cameraman and producer were staying. And even though the decorations were a little old-fashioned, so was Arthur, so he didn't mind.

"Good morning!" the owner called, smiling at Arthur when he reached the ground floor. "Did you sleep well, Mr. Kirkland?"

"Tolerably well," he replied with a shrug.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"I don't suppose there's any possibility of a cup of tea?"

"Um," she frowned and glanced back toward the kitchen door, "I think we might have some iced tea mixes?"

"Never mind." Arthur shuddered at the horrific thought of _powdered_ tea as he finished pulling on his coat. Perhaps there would be some sort of cafe in downtown Punxsutawney. Even a Starbucks would be acceptable.

"Will you be checking out today?" the owner called as Arthur reached the door.

"Definitely," he promised. There was no way he was going to spend a minute more than he had to in such a rusticated little town.

Even this early in the morning, the area around the town green was already crowded with slack-jawed yokels dressed in thick coats. Arthur fought his way through the cheerful throngs, only to discover that the closest coffee shop served nothing but coffee. How unfortunate. Still grumbling to himself, Arthur found his cameraman, Kiku, and his producer, Emma, waiting for him at the edge of the main stage.

"Arthur! Did you have trouble finding us?" Emma asked gently, her polite way of letting Arthur know that he was late.

He shrugged. "No, but I _did_ have trouble finding a cup of tea."

All around them the spectators began to cheer and Kiku lifted up his camera to start filming. This was what they had crossed an ocean to see. A weather-predicting rodent. Arthur tried to contain his disdain as a group of men in top hats gathered with solemn dignity on the stage. The youngest one, a handsome young lad in his mid-to-late twenties, approached the fake burrow at the center of the stage. "It's groundhog time!" he shouted and the cheers grew louder.

Arthur plastered on a smile and faced the camera. "Reporting from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, I'm here for America's oldest groundhog festival. Crowds as large as 40,000 have gathered since 1886 to celebrate this quirky holiday. Why, you may ask? Well, according to Germanic folklore, if the groundhog sees his shadow and returns to his burrow, there will be six more weeks of winter. It's very cold right now, so I'm sure the crowd is anxious to hear what this marvelous rodent has to say."

"Less sarcasm!" Emma whispered, pitching her voice softly enough that the microphones wouldn't pick up any of her words.

Arthur rolled his eyes. The chance of him giving up his dry wit was about as likely as the groundhog emerging from his hole, putting on a fedora, and doing the salsa. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long for the main event. The groundhog peeked its head out of the burrow and promptly ducked back inside for cover, drawing boos from the crowd.

"Oh, dear." Arthur tsked. "It seems that winter will last another six weeks here. Something we would already know if we had looked at a calendar, seeing as how March 21 is the official start of spring."

Emma sighed. "I said _less_ , not more."

"I'm afraid all of the sarcasm inhibitors in my brain require tea to function." He turned to Kiku. "Will you be able to take out the red from my eyes? I'm afraid my shampoo this morning didn't agree with me."

"Of course, Arthur-san," Kiku replied with a carefully blank expression.

This time it was Emma's turn to roll her eyes. "Maybe you confused it with the scotch bottle," she muttered.

Before Arthur could deliver a witty retort, a loud American voice practically shouted in Arthur's ear, "Hey folks! I'm Alfred! You ready to do the interview with Phil?"

Arthur jumped and whirled around to discover the young man who had handled the groundhog standing directly behind him. He had taken off his hat, leaving one hair sticking up at a ridiculous angle. Pausing to admire the lad's chiseled physique and bright blue eyes, Arthur decided that America did have a _few_ good points. He offered his palm for a handshake and was pleasantly surprised that Alfred's grip was warm and firm without trying to crush his hand.

"Who's Phil?" he asked. He didn't remember making plans for any interviews, so Emma must have scheduled it earlier in the morning.

The cheerful American jerked his thumb towards the stage. "That little fella over there! Punxsutawney Phil is what we call him."

"This is an interview with the _groundhog_?"

Alfred's eyes widened. "Whoa, you're British!"

"Yes," Arthur rolled his eyes, "that _would_ explain why I work for the BBC."

"Less sarcasm!" Emma insisted sotto voce. She turned toward Alfred and smiled as she shook his hand. "Mr. Jones, thank you so much for scheduling this with us."

"Sure, no prob! I love showing off the little guy."

"When did we schedule this?" Arthur asked Emma as they followed the American to a small area behind the stage.

" _I_ scheduled it while you were on your third shot," Emma retorted.

"Ah." Trying to maintain his dignity, Arthur joined Alfred as he walked over to a carrier for a small animal. Through the metal wiring, Arthur could see an unhappy groundhog. He could sympathize; Groundhog's Day probably wasn't much fun for the groundhog either. After Kiku set up his cameras and some additional lighting, Arthur proceeded to interview a creature that was technically a type of squirrel. Of course, Phil didn't speak English, so Alfred 'translated' his little squeaks from 'groundhogese.'

"So... Phil... how old are you?" Arthur asked, starting with the basics.

The groundhog squeaked and squirmed in Alfred's hands while the American scrunched his eyebrows and did some quick math. "He says he's 129."

"Really. He doesn't look a day over three."

Alfred grinned. "He drinks an elixir of 'Groundhog Punch' at the summer Groundhog Picnic that adds seven years to his life each time."

"That must be some strong punch. Well, we all know what you do today, Phil. But what do you do the other 364 days of the year?"

"He stays in his burrow at the Punxsutawney Library with his wife, Phyllis."

"His wife." Arthur arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Do you mean to tell me that Pennsylvania has recognized marriage between two groundhogs for longer than it has recognized marriage between two people of the same sex?"

"Yeah, I guess it sounds kinda depressing when you put it that way. Phil says that it's better late than never."

"Fair enough. What are your thoughts on the holiday, Phil?"

The groundhog made another squeaky effort to escape Alfred's grip. The American just readjusted his handhold as he 'translated' the noises. "Yep! He says that if he had his way, every day would be Groundhog Day."

It was an utterly undignified experience that Arthur hoped never to repeat again in his life. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when it was over. As Emma and Kiku reviewed the footage, Alfred shook Arthur's hand and gave him another big grin. "How long are you in town? Let me know if there's anything you want to see here in Punxsutawney!"

"We're heading off right now," Arthur replied. "But thank you for the offer." As he turned his back, he missed the disappointed look on Alfred's face. Leaving Kiku and Emma to deal with the equipment, Arthur gratefully returned to the bed and breakfast, packed his bags, and checked out. He was more than ready to leave the sleepy little town behind.

The town had other plans.

As Kiku and Emma finished loading the car, it began to snow. Arthur watched the flakes fall with growing alarm. Although he urged Kiku to drive faster, by the time they drove past the city limits, snow and ice had already coated the road. After just a few more minutes of driving, Kiku declared defeat. The streets were impassable. They returned to the hotel and discovered that it didn't matter anyway; their flight had been cancelled.

Arthur sighed. It seemed he was stuck in Punxsutawney for one more night.

* * *

Arthur woke up with a hangover as the chorus of Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" filled the room. He wondered if he was going through tea withdrawals, because he certainly hadn't drunk any alcohol. Before long the song switched over to a cheerful voice. "Rise and shine, folks! And don't forget your booties because it's cold out there!"

This time Arthur recognized the voice. It was Alfred. But that didn't explain why Alfred was repeating his forecast from the day before.

"...down to Gobbler's Knob to see our finest and furriest weatherman make his prediction. The big question on everyone's mind today: will Phil see his shadow or will we have an early spring?"

Arthur frowned in confusion as he turned off the alarm. He pulled on his clothes and headed outside, wondering if he could find a different coffeeshop. One with some tea.

As he stepped outside, he was surprised to find bustling crowds and streets clear of snow. Thinking there might be a post-Groundhog Day event, he wandered to the main stage. He noticed Kiku and Emma standing in the same spot as yesterday.

"Arthur!" Emma called. "Did you have trouble finding us?"

"I didn't realize there was something going on today as well," Arthur said, glancing around in confusion. He didn't understand why the spectators had returned.

"They're all waiting for the groundhog," Kiku explained politely as he finished preparing his camera for filming.

"Didn't we do this yesterday?"

Emma and Kiku shared a concerned look. "Are you still drunk?" Emma asked.

Their conversation was interrupted by cheers as Alfred once again opened the door to the groundhog's burrow. Watching in complete confusion, Arthur barely noticed as Emma nudged him to give his 'Groundhog Day' introduction. Still feeling dazed, he repeated the words from memory. If Emma and Kiku noticed a deterioration in his performance, they were too polite to say so.

When they finished filming, Arthur rubbed his temples. He wasn't sure if _he_ was going insane or if everyone else was, but neither option sounded good.

He jumped as Alfred shouted from behind, "Hey folks! I'm Alfred! You ready to do the interview with Phil?"

"Oh, god. Not the groundhog again," Arthur complained.

"Whoa, you're British!"

"Yes, just as British as I was yesterday."

Alfred laughed. "Sorry! Bet you get that all the time."

"Quite often," Arthur agreed. It was one of the many things he disliked about spending time in the States. Americans always seemed shocked to discover that some people lived in different countries and spoke English differently ( _i.e._ better).

Arthur briefly wondered if the entire town was pranking him as he once again sat down for an 'interview' with Phil. Although it seemed like far too much effort for one measly British journalist, he had seen how low American reality shows would stoop for ratings. Arthur surreptitiously glanced around for hidden cameras.

"Hey... you okay?" Alfred asked, giving him a worried smile.

"I'm fine. I was just wondering how long it will take before someone jumps out and tells me this is one big joke," Arthur replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emma bury her face in her hands.

"Oh, no!" Alfred insisted earnestly. "We really believe in the groundhog here!"

The American's eyes sparkled with such pure honesty that Arthur found himself doubting his own memories. Perhaps he had just suffered from a particularly vivid dream as a result of the butterscotch schnapps? Or maybe it _was_ a symptom of tea withdrawal.

He went through the motions for the rest of the interview and sighed in relief when Emma and Kiku decided that they had enough footage. At the end, Alfred shook his hand again and once again offered him a tour of the town's attractions. "Let me know if there's anything you want to see here in Punxsutawney!"

Arthur opened his mouth to decline and quickly changed his mind. "I don't suppose there are any places here that sell tea?" he asked.

"Um," Alfred wrinkled his nose in thought. "The County Market might have some?"

"Thanks." Arthur followed Alfred's directions to the grocery store and discovered that the only option was Lipton. He shuddered in dismay, but held his nose and bought it anyway. After a brief chat with the B&B owner to explain that _no_ , one did not just heat up water in the microwave, he found himself sitting in the dining room with a cup of mediocre tea. The sad part was that it actually was the highlight of his day.

By that point, he had nearly convinced himself that his memories of the day before were just the byproduct of an amazingly vivid dream. But there was one other thing he wanted to check. If he was right, an oncoming blizzard would stop them from leaving the town. He wasn't sure if he preferred to be right (and stuck in Punxsutawney) or wrong (and on his way back to London). Actually, strike that, he _knew_ he would rather be a bit crazy and in London, than completely sane and stuck in the States.

"Arthur! Aren't you ready to go?" Emma asked as she and Kiku carried their suitcases into the lobby.

He shook his head and took another sip of tea. "There's no point in trying to leave now, not with this blizzard."

Kiku glanced out the window at the fluffy flakes that had just started to fall. While Emma and Kiku waited for Arthur to finish his tea, the weather outside grew steadily worse.

"Hmm," Emma said as she watched the howling winds coat the road in snow and ice. "Maybe I should see if we can schedule a later flight."

"Make sure I have a first-class seat," Arthur replied.

Despite Emma and Kiku's half-hearted attempts to entice Arthur out to dinner once the blizzard ended, he insisted on spending the rest of the day curled up in his room with a good book and some terrible tea. He didn't care if it was Lipton's. It was still better than spending any more time in Punxsutawney.

* * *

" _Never gonna give you up_."

"No," Arthur groaned and curled into the fetal position.

" _Never gonna let you down_."

"This isn't happening!"

" _Never gonna run around and desert you_."

"Not again!" Arthur crawled out of bed and looked for the box of tea he _knew_ he had purchased the day before. It was gone. The streets were clear. And judging from Alfred's cheerful announcement on the radio, it was Groundhog's Day. _Yet again_.

Arthur flung the alarm against the wall and grimaced in satisfaction as it broke into pieces. There was no way he was going to spend another day in Punxsutawney. He packed his bags and went to fetch Emma and Kiku from their spot near the stage.

"Arthur! Did you have trouble finding us?"

He skipped the chitchat. "We need to leave."

"What?" Emma blinked in confusion. "But it's just about to start!"

"My mother's in the hospital," Arthur lied. "They're not sure how much longer she has. I need to get to London immediately."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Emma said sympathetically. "Kiku and I will fetch our bags and we can leave right away."

Kiku nodded. "I will call to change the flights."

"Thank you," Arthur murmured graciously.

This time they beat the blizzard and Arthur felt his heart race in excitement as he stepped into the Pittsburgh airport. Never before in his life had he been so happy to see such a crummy little airport. It even had a Starbucks with acceptable tea!

They caught a flight from Pittsburgh to Newark and soon boarded another headed to London. Arthur tried not to grin like a maniac. Fortunately, Kiku and Emma mistook his jittery anticipation for worry and left him alone for the flight.

It was nearly midnight by the time he reached his London flat. He fed his cat, fell into bed with a grateful sigh, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Arthur woke up in Punxsutawney to the irritating, repetitive chorus of "Never Gonna Give You Up." His hangover had returned and the clock was back in perfect working order.

"Fuck you to goddamn little pieces!" he shouted as he hurled the clock against the wall. Breaking it gave him vicious pleasure, even if he knew it was only going to repair itself again by the next morning.

This day, Arthur decided, he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted. He skipped the groundhog ceremony, got shit-faced before noon, stole a guitar from the local pawn shop, burst into a second grade classroom, taught the students the _real_ lyrics to My Country 'Tis of Thee, and went to sleep in jail on charges of public intoxication. It was the most fun he had had since fresher year.

It didn't matter. He still woke up in his stupid bed at the stupid bed and breakfast at stupid o'clock while stupid Rick Astley sang a stupid love song.

Nothing he did mattered. He could (and did) TP the entire town and the next morning it was back to normal. After just a few days, even the drinking and petty crime sprees lost their allure. What was the point of stealing money if he couldn't keep it? Why set the groundhog free if it just reappeared the next day? He could do whatever he wanted and none of it made a lick of difference.

Arthur was stuck in his own personal hell and it was called Punxsutawney.

* * *

On the seventh day, he decided to turn the situation to his advantage. Repeating the same day over and over again gave him the ability to get to know someone very well. With that sort of knowledge, it would be easy to find the best approach to persuade that person into bed. And he knew exactly who he wanted to bed first...

Alfred F. Jones.

The American was handsome. He was friendly. And something about his eager boyish charm sent Arthur's gaydar senses tingling. So on the seventh morning, Arthur actually did the stupid groundhog interview again and this time he chuckled at Alfred's jokes to make a good impression on the cute American. By the end of the interview, the crowds had mostly dissipated, leaving Arthur alone with his tasty target. And, as always, Alfred gave him a perfect opening when he turned toward Arthur and smiled. "Let me know if there's anything you want to see here in Punxsutawney!"

"I don't suppose this place has a gay bar?" Arthur asked with a flirty smile.

"Nah. We usually just hang out at Cookie's on Wednesdays."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping for a bit of fun," Arthur replied with mock-disappointment. He heard Kiku make a small choking noise and chose to ignore it.

While Arthur devoured him with his eyes, Alfred pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "There's a date auction at the community center tonight," he suggested.

"Are _you_ on the auction block?"

Oblivious to the blatant flirting, Alfred just laughed and shook his head. "Nah. There's like one other single gay guy in town. Don't think it'd be much of a bidding war."

"I'm sure plenty of women would be happy to bid on such a handsome specimen." Arthur wondered if giving Alfred bedroom eyes would be too much. It was probably too much. He did it anyway.

Still wearing a winsome and oblivious smile, Alfred shrugged. "Maybe. But what's the point in going on a date if there's no chance it's gonna mean anything in the long run?"

Arthur paused, unsure how to respond to an attitude so foreign to his own. He loved one-night stands and found physical pleasure to be a joy in its own right. He didn't need a commitment to enjoy himself. It seemed that Alfred felt differently. But that was all right. Arthur wasn't a quitter and he had infinite tries to get his approach _exactly_ right.

"The point of a date is to learn more about the other person," he suggested, picking his words carefully to appeal to Alfred's old-fashioned sense of courtship. "So... in the interests of getting to know you better, would you care to head over to that lovely little cafe for something to drink?"

Alfred blinked and seemed to realize for the first time that Arthur was flirting with him. His face turned an adorable shade of pink. "Uh... sure."

For the next few hours, Arthur learned everything he could about Alfred. All of his likes and dislikes, all of his hopes and dreams, anything that would help Arthur get into his boxers. Alfred was more than happy to share.

Alfred was born and raised in Philadelphia, but moved to Punxsutawney after finishing college to help take care of his grandmother. He had a job as a morning weatherman at the local radio station. He wanted to travel all around the world, but dreamed of settling down in a quiet town, finding himself a cozy house with a big yard for plenty of dogs.

Most of Alfred's life story and hobbies were intriguing, with the exception of his infatuation with aliens, superheroes, and Superman, whom he described as an alien superhero. Once Arthur managed to change the subject back to better topics, he found the handsome young American to be rather pleasant company. And unlike others, Arthur didn't have to worry about driving him away with biting wit because Alfred treated the snarkiest jokes as good-natured humor. Sure, he was oblivious and a bit naive, but he proved remarkably quick-witted on certain subjects and he was curious about _everything_.

"...it even has a cool display that lets you climb into a tornado!" Alfred said, his eyes shining brightly as he described the Punxsutawney Weather Discovery Center.

"Fascinating," Arthur murmured. "What else do you do for fun here?"

"Well, do you ice skate? We've got a real nice rink."

"I can't say I've ever learned," Arthur admitted.

"Would you like to?" Alfred asked eagerly. "I can teach you!"

And that was how Arthur found himself on the Punxsutawney skating rink, struggling to maintain his balance on the slippery ice. He wanted to hold on to the rink's walls, but Alfred coaxed him into the center of the rink by holding his hands and pulling him forward. Alfred provided the propulsion, while Arthur focused on staying upright. Still holding hands, they skated around the rink in a lazy circle and after a few near-tumbles, Arthur finally found his balance.

His calves ached after just a few minutes, but he kept going so he could continue to admire the way Alfred glided effortlessly across the ice. The American showed a level of graceful movements that he certainly didn't possess while walking on the plain ground. Arthur hoped that it was a skill that transferred over to his bedroom abilities.

"We going too fast?" Alfred asked cheerfully. "You look a little warm."

"No, not at all. This is lovely." Arthur had said it to be flirty, but he realized that he was actually enjoying himself. Despite the risk of landing on his ass, skating around in circles was rather relaxing.

They passed the entrance to the rink, and Arthur tripped as a couple cut in front of them. He tumbled backwards and braced for impact. Instead of landing on the ice, he fell onto something much warmer and softer. Feeling Alfred shift beneath him, he managed to roll over and slip his knee between Alfred's thighs.

The American shot up with an impressive speed and was still blushing as he reached down to help Arthur to his feet. "Uh, maybe that's enough for today," Alfred suggested as he led Arthur to the exit. "You did real good for a beginner."

"Thank you," Arthur replied a little breathlessly. "You're my hero for catching me," he flirted shamelessly, making Alfred's cheeks flame red.

As a 'thank you', Arthur proposed dinner and a movie for the evening. The food was bland and the movie was insipid American propaganda, but Alfred didn't seem to mind, so Arthur declared it a victory.

Their walk back to his bed and breakfast was delayed by an impromptu snow fight with some teenagers on the town square. They chased the teens away and then giggled like children as they rolled around in the snow and made snow angels. 'Accidentally' rolling too far, Arthur landed on top of Alfred's chest. They both froze for a moment, giving Arthur time to enjoy the solid warmth beneath him. Despite their thick jackets, he could feel Alfred's firm chest. He liked being on top of Alfred. It would be even better once they found a bed and lost their clothes.

Feeling bold and a little frisky, he pressed his chapped lips against Alfred's warm mouth. Alfred kissed back sweetly, clearly a little unsure what to do when Arthur slipped a tongue between his parted lips. They exchanged kisses in the snow until Alfred shivered and suggested that it might be time to get Arthur back to his room.

Arthur readily agreed, walking hand-in-hand with Alfred the short distance back to the bed and breakfast. After a day of shy glances and lingering touches, he was more than ready for a passionate embrace. Eager to return to his bedroom, he tugged Alfred toward the front door and was a little surprised when Alfred didn't follow him.

"This was great," Alfred said earnestly. "I had a lot of fun."

"Yes, so did I."

"I hope you have a nice trip back to London!"

"You're... you're not coming up?" Arthur asked in surprise. He hadn't realized that Alfred wasn't including himself when he suggested going back to Arthur's room.

Alfred shook his head and smiled. "Nah, I'd better be getting home. My grandma gets worried if she doesn't have someone around the house at night.

"Oh, of course," Arthur said weakly as Alfred waved goodbye. Arthur sighed longingly and kept his gaze focused on Alfred's tight rear as the American began to walk away. He hated to see Alfred leave, but he loved to watch him go.

When the taut buttocks disappeared from view, Arthur closed the front door behind him with a loud thump. So close and yet so far. But at least the day wasn't a complete waste. With everything he had learned about Alfred, he would have a head start as he repeated the day again. Alfred _would_ be his. He just needed a few more tries.

* * *

A few tries turned into ten tries and then twenty. Eventually, Arthur settled on a strategic plan. He attended the groundhog festivities each morning and delivered all of his lines from memory. After the interview, he asked Alfred to show him the ice-skating rink and let Alfred teach him how to ice-skate. With each repeated day, he improved and Alfred began to remark that he was really good for a beginner. After ice-skating, they took shelter from the blizzard in the cafe, where they sipped hot cocoa and chatted.

For the latter part of the day, Arthur tried a number of different stratagems. He took Alfred to different restaurants, watched all the movies at the local theater, and even went to visit the Weather Discovery Center. (As it turned out, the museum was worth it just to see the way Alfred laughed and raced around like a kid.)

They even tried to go to the date auction, but Arthur discovered that it was cancelled at the last minute because the organizers couldn't manage to get everything set up in time and didn't have enough volunteers.

No matter what Arthur tried, the night always ended with Alfred walking him back to the bed and breakfast and wishing him goodnight on the sidewalk. Sometimes he didn't even get a goodnight kiss.

As his hopes of luring Alfred into his bed gradually dwindled, Arthur finally settled on booze as a measure of last resort. Yes, he knew how he acted when he was drunk (even if he didn't actually remember, he still heard the stories later), but it was worth a try. It wasn't like Alfred would even remember if Arthur ended up humiliating himself. And maybe Alfred also acted differently when he was a bit tipsy. After all, there was nothing better than a little Dutch courage to lower inhibitions.

* * *

Cookie's Caboose turned out to be a charming bar with stained glass lights and dark wood countertops. Colorful bottles and glasses lined the back wall, giving it an elegant air. Alfred took both their coats and hung them up by the door. Arthur found himself moderately impressed, until he tried to order a drink.

"I'll have a Cosmopolitan," he said.

The bartender gave him an apologetic look. "We mostly serve beer. I've got some hard liquor, but I don't have the ingredients for a cocktail."

"Not even a Martini?"

"Yeah, make him one of those!" Alfred agreed eagerly as he planted his butt on the stool next to Arthur's. "I wanna hear his James Bond impression!"

"Sorry, no vermouth. Usual for you, Al?"

While Alfred nodded, Arthur scoffed at the other man's suggestion. "Don't be absurd, my accent sounds nothing like Sean Connery."

"Okay, but what about one of the other Bonds?"

"There is only one Bond and his name is Sean Connery."

"Here you go," the bartender said, interrupting their spat by setting a beer in front of Alfred. He turned toward Arthur, "I've got some OJ in the back if you want a Fuzzy Navel," he offered.

"Fine." Arthur decided it was the best he was going to do. He glanced over at Alfred's drink and arched an eyebrow. "I can't believe you're drinking beer."

"What's wrong with beer?"

"Nothing. I just thought you'd prefer a _fruity_ drink."

"I like beer."

"Well, at least it gives good head," Arthur deadpanned. He chuckled as Alfred spit out some of the beer in surprise. The bartender gave Alfred an exasperated look and handed him some napkins to clean off the counter as he set Arthur's orange-flavored cocktail in front of him.

Arthur took a sip and smiled. "Mine's better. Nice and _stiff_."

While Alfred choked on another sip, Arthur continued to smirk and enjoy his drink. Despite the lack of cocktail options, the bartender was certainly generous enough with the amount of booze he added to the drink. It was good. Arthur drank one, and then another, and then spent some time contemplating his navel while Alfred prattled on about the local sports teams, appropriately called the Punxsy Chucks. Apparently he helped coach one of the high school "football" teams. It was a tidbit Arthur hadn't heard before, but it fit in with everything else he knew about the handsome American.

"...and that's when I suggested changing the name to the Punxsy Whistle-pigs," Alfred said with a grin, finishing a long-winded story that Arthur had started to ignore halfway through. Arthur felt pleasantly warm and comfortable. It was easy to just let the words swirl around his head as he smiled at Alfred and draped his arms on the counter.

"Whistle-pig?" Arthur asked, wondering if he had heard correctly.

"Yep! 's another name for a groundhog. They make this alarm noise thingie."

"Ah," Arthur replied, finding it hard to keep track of their conversation as he felt the world tilt disconcertingly to the left. A hand reached out to catch him before he slipped off his stool and he suddenly found himself much closer to Alfred. As he lounged against the American, it felt like his plan was going swimmingly well.

"My gram says it kinda sounds like an old-timey kettle."

"What kettle?"

"No, the groundhog," Alfred corrected him. His face suddenly brightened with a mischievous grin. "I could show you if you want. We sneak in, scare him, and you can tell me if it's a real kettle sound!"

"What?" Arthur blinked. "We've got electric kettles now."

Alfred sighed. "No, I'm talking about the _groundhog_."

Deciding that the American must be drunk because he wasn't making any sense, Arthur turned back to the counter and found his drink empty. He didn't remember finishing it off. In fact, many of his memories were a pleasant fuzz. All of his angst about being trapped in a never-ending time loop had disappeared in the warm glow of delicious booze.

"Arthur?" a voice broke its way through the gentle fog. "You up for it or not?"

Given his amazing tolerance, Arthur decided he could easily handle another Furry Nasal. "I drink I'd rather have another think," he replied.

"I 'drink' you've had enough. Come on, it'll be fun!" Alfred tossed some bills on the counter and pulled Arthur to his feet. The Englishman would have protested, but it was so nice to lean against Alfred's warm body that he immediately forgot what he was complaining about. He rested his head on Alfred's shoulder and let his eyes begin to droop in relaxation.

"Where we going?" Arthur asked as Alfred wrapped an arm around his waist and led him out the door. They stumbled together along the sidewalk, pulled forward by Alfred's long legs and enthusiasm despite the snow, the ice, and Arthur's boozy lack of balance.

Alfred grinned excitedly. "The groundhog, remember?"

"'Course I 'member th' little bugger," Arthur slurred angrily. Even alcohol couldn't make him forget the stupid squirrel he had to deal with every bleeding morning.

"We can sneak in like a Bond movie!"

In the cold evening air, Arthur felt a smirk cross his face. Despite the alcohol sloshing around in his brain, he still remembered the standard Bond plot. The dashing spy seduced a sexy henchwoman to learn the villain's secrets. "I could do that," he offered, letting his hand slip closer to that lovely American ass. "Pull some bird to get my way in."

Alfred gave him a blank look as they passed by the town square, now covered in a fresh layer of snow. "What do birds have to do with anything?"

"Not a damn thing," Arthur agreed with a laugh.

Before he knew it, they were crouched in front of the library's main window. On the inside, Arthur could see the groundhog exhibit. One of the creatures stared back with beady, evil eyes. Its mouth moved and Arthur could imagine hearing a diabolical chuckle.

His eyes widened with sudden realization. What if the groundhog really was a 129-year-old small mammal that drank an elixir of eternal youth? He would be capable of all sorts of devious magic. In his drunken state, Arthur decided it was the only logical explanation for his predicament. "It's the groundhog's fault!" he shouted. "Bloody groundhog!"

"Wait, what?" Alfred held him back when he tried to pound his fists against the window. As Arthur struggled in the American's arms, everything suddenly tilted ninety degrees, leaving Arthur to stare at the darkness above... or was it below?

"The sky's on the ground!" he shouted, throwing his arms around Alfred's neck. The world was spinning and moving in a disorienting way. It was like ice-skating, but dizzier. Arthur rested his head against Alfred's chest and promptly lost his train of thought as he noticed the firm muscles beneath his hand. "Ooh, _nice_."

"Thanks! You're a lightweight, you know that?"

"I'm not!" Arthur protested. "I got toler... er... wossit..."

The muscles moved up and down as Alfred chuckled. "God, you're so hammered."

Arthur grinned and meant to ask if Alfred wanted to get nailed, but the words ended up as an indecipherable mumble as he buried his face into the delicious chest.

Not long afterward, the cold air changed to warmer surroundings. A woman's voice asked a couple of worried questions, but Arthur barely noticed as he cuddled against his cute American. Before he knew it, they were in his bedroom. Arthur grinned in satisfaction; the booze had worked! For once, he had successfully brought Alfred back to his room.

Before he knew it, he was reclining on the bed and Alfred had started the process of taking off his shoes. It was a good start, until Alfred wandered off to the bathroom and Arthur had to finish undressing himself. He barely managed to kick off his boxers when Alfred returned with a glass of water and a couple of pain killers.

The glass made a satisfying shattering noise as it hit the floor.

" _Holy shi_... is that a _tattoo_?" Alfred asked as his gaze dropped down to the sweet six-string inked on Arthur's hip.

"Do you like?" Arthur arched his back into the bed and rolled his hip to the side to give Alfred a better view. The tattoo artist had done a good job, even if Arthur didn't really remember how he got it. Like many of the most interesting parts of his life, it had happened while he was drunk.

The American must have been descended from the bloody puritans because he blushed and averted his gaze. He took off his own jacket and tossed it on top of Arthur.

Seeing a perfect opportunity to make the sweet lad blush even more, Arthur wrapped the sleeves of the jacket around his waist and climbed out of bed wearing the jacket like an apron. It was too bad Alfred wasn't going to remember it, because, judging by his wide eyes and red cheeks, he would _never_ look at his jacket the same way again.

"Watch out, the glass!" Alfred shouted, leaping forward to push Arthur back onto the bed.

They landed together in a heap of limbs, with Arthur's legs draped over the edge of the bed and Alfred lying on top of him. Arthur smirked to feel a bulge pressing against his thigh. He had been starting to wonder if Alfred actually found him attractive. "Is that a _wood_ chuck or are you ready to have a go?" he purred.

"No, I shouldn't," Alfred said, but he changed his tune to a lustful moan when Arthur bucked his hips upward. " _Ahh_."

Alfred ground their hips together and kissed him roughly. He abused the Englishman's lips until they were swollen and red all while Arthur happily tangled his fingers in the American's soft hair. What Alfred lacked in technique, he certainly made up for with enthusiasm. Eager to get on with it, Arthur slipped his hands down to Alfred's shirt and tried to pull it off, then grunted in frustration when Alfred pulled away.

Alfred wiped the saliva from his lips and gave Arthur a glum look. "No. You're drunk and you're leaving tomorrow."

"I'm not the one who leaves! _You_ always leave!"

"What?" Alfred asked in confusion.

"Don't go," Arthur pleaded, feeling the tears well in his eyes. He couldn't bear it anymore. Each day they grew so close and each day Alfred slipped away. "Not again."

"I think you're thinking of someone else," Alfred replied gently.

"I'm not! It's you! It's always you!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You should go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning." After a moment's pause, Alfred added, "Well, maybe more like the afternoon. I hope your flight ain't early."

"Never gonna leave," Arthur mumbled, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. The rush of adrenaline from the kisses had rapidly faded, and now his body wanted to slumber. It felt like his body was drifting away from him.

"You're not?" Alfred asked with a hopeful tone.

"No." Arthur shook his head and closed his eyes as the ceiling started to spin. "Please stay with me." He barely noticed as Alfred moved him to a more comfortable position in the bed. Arthur sank into the pillow as Alfred pulled the blankets around him. A moment later, Arthur felt a dip in the bed as warm arms wrapped around him.

"Just until you fall asleep, okay?" Alfred promised.

Arthur nodded and curled up against the other man. Even the warmth couldn't change the hollow feeling in his chest. "Won't remember it anyway," he murmured. He wasn't sure if he meant Alfred or himself.

He fell asleep in Alfred's arms and woke up alone.

* * *

As Arthur slowly began to realize that he was never going to have a sex life again, he started to grow more desperate. It was bad enough to be stuck in Punxsutawney with its complete lack of tea, culture, and class. He didn't want to live a life of forced celibacy!

Faking an interest in Alfred's comic book collection finally unlocked the door to Alfred's bedroom, a tiny studio apartment built above his grandmother's garage. It was cluttered and disorganized, but Arthur didn't care. It had a large enough bed, and that was the only thing that mattered. The decor left something to be desired, although Arthur thought the dream catcher above the bed was a nice touch. It had been decorated with feathers and beads in a lovely shade of sky blue. Someone must have made a mistake with the beads, he realized as he looked closer, because there was a green one trapped at the center.

While Alfred chattered about Captain America, Arthur lounged on the bed and began Operation Seduction, attempt thirty-two. He took off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. He even ruffled his hair for that sexy post-coital look. When all those efforts failed to draw Alfred's attention, he grabbed a lollypop from the candy bowl and gave it a few languid licks, wetting his lips and moaning softly with pleasure.

"Did you say some...?" Alfred turned around and promptly dropped his comic book. "Wow," he breathed as his Adam's apple bobbed.

Arthur smirked seductively. Finally!

"I mean... wow! Look at the time." Alfred dragged his gaze down to his bare wrist. "You probably need to get back to your room."

"I've thought _long_ and _hard_ about it, and I think I'd rather stay. There's so much in Punxsutawney I haven't seen yet," Arthur said, dropping his eyes with a meaningful gaze directed at Alfred's crotch. He wasn't normally so direct, but Alfred didn't seem to take a hint unless he delivered it like a two-by-four.

Alfred gulped and stumbled backwards until he collided with his dresser. His eyes were as wide as saucers. "But what about the three-date rule?"

" _What_ three-date rule?"

"You're not, um, you're not supposed to make whoopee 'til date three."

Arthur buried his face in his hands. Even under that ridiculous metric, he had already put in his time. They had been on _thirty_ dates, at least! He was more than ready, but it was equally clear to him that Alfred wasn't. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Arthur felt a stab of guilt for his manipulative behavior. Pretending to like comics just to get into Alfred's bed had been a bad idea. Arthur swung his legs over the edge of the bed, buttoned his shirt, and began pulling on his shoes.

"Hey, I wasn't trying to kick you out or anything," Alfred said, giving Arthur a worried expression as he watched the Englishman get ready to leave. "I had fun today."

"So did I," Arthur agreed with a soft smile. He stood up and gave the confused American a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"Yes. You're the best thing about this town."

Alfred blushed. "Well, you haven't seen everything yet."

"I've seen more than you might think."

"I bet I can find something you haven't done."

"Yes, I'm sure you could." The Englishman smiled back and resisted the urge to point out that what _he_ wanted to do would violate Alfred's three-date rule.

"Great!" Alfred said excitedly. "I can come meet you at ten after I finish the morning weather report!"

Arthur agreed to the plan as he pulled on his coat, even though he knew it would never happen. Sometimes it was nice to pretend that he wasn't stuck in a never-ending time loop, slowly losing all hope of escape. He declined Alfred's offer to walk him back to his hotel and instead wandered around the town square lost in thought. He felt like he was trapped in a dream ... or a nightmare.

Unless he managed the impossible task of fitting three dates into one day, it seemed that he was going no further in his relationship with the handsome young American. Arthur found himself oddly depressed by the prospect and it was _more_ than just the lack of sex. He had grown rather fond of Alfred and each morning it grew more painful to see the way that Alfred treated him like a stranger. Yes, it was easy to get the American to open up to him, but it wasn't a substitute for the genuine growth that two people could experience over a period of time.

It finally occurred to Arthur to wonder what would happen to him if he was stuck in the time-loop for years on end. Would he begin to age? Would he go crazy? If it lasted for a thousand years, would he eventually forget all of his old memories in the dim mists of time? Arthur wondered if it would be possible to break the loop by killing himself, although he wasn't desperate enough to try.

He bought a cup of coffee and drank the hot bitter beverage while pacing his room. His thoughts grew progressively gloomier as he stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning. He felt trapped and antsy.

The worst part was that there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even turn his trap into something more pleasant because the one person he wanted to be with was too shy to hop into bed with a stranger. The more Arthur thought about it, the more depressed he became. One day he would know ever single detail of Alfred's life, and the American would still know only as much about _him_ as he could fit into a single day.

It was completely unfair. How could Arthur possibly fit all he wanted out of life into one day in small town America? He couldn't even find a decent cup of tea! Arthur groaned in anguish as he thought about his complete lack of scones. He would never taste his mum's baking again. He would never enjoy a warm summer's day or the crisp colors of autumn. And even though he loved to garden, he wouldn't ever see a flower blossom or hear a robin begin to chirp in frigid Punxsutawney. As the groundhog had predicted, it was going to be the winter of Arthur's discontent for... forever.

That night he stayed up until 5:59am. He stared at the numbers and his heart began to race. All this time, had it been a simple matter of waiting for the dawn?

The edges of his vision grew dark and he stared at the clock like it was the light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn't control his body any more. It felt like he was falling, falling, and he could hear a voice calling, calling, " _Never gonna give you up_."

Arthur woke up with a jolt.

" _Never gonna let you down_."

He stared at the clock with despair.

" _Never gonna run around and desert you_."

It was Groundhog's Day again.

* * *

Following rote habit more than anything else, Arthur skipped breakfast and wandered over to Gobbler's Knob. He had laughed the first time he saw 'Knob' in the square's name, but even puerile humor couldn't seem to reach him now. He stared at Emma and Kiku with a deadened gaze.

"Arthur! Did you have trouble finding us?" Emma asked as usual. Then she paused and gave Arthur a worried look. "...are you okay?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter? Does _any_ of this really matter?"

"Statistically speaking, no," Kiku replied. "The groundhog's predictions are only accurate 39% of the time."

"I don't think he's talking about the weather," Emma murmured. She gave Arthur an encouraging smile. "Let's get the footage from the event and then we can have a little chat afterward. I've heard the cafe here does good waffles."

"Waffles aren't going to solve my problem," Arthur griped, but he gave his memorized speech anyway. The one time he had tried to explain his problem to Emma and Kiku, they had dragged him to the local shrink who spent two hours talking with him about his feelings. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

With an exhausted sigh, Arthur watched the happy crowd and tried to remember what it felt like to be excited about something. He felt a stab of pity. Yes, he was trapped, but at least he knew what was happening. They were just re-living the same day, oblivious to the fact that they had repeated the same conversations and actions nearly fifty times.

"Hey folks! I'm Alfred! You ready to do the interview with Phil?" a voice shouted from behind. Arthur was expecting it, so he didn't even blink.

"Um, Mr. Jones, I think we'd better take a rain check," Emma replied apologetically. "Our interviewer isn't feeling very good."

Alfred gave Arthur a sympathetic smile. "Hey, no worries. Let me know if you want to film anything later today. We've got the blizzard, but the late afternoon should be clear."

"Blizzard?" Kiku asked, his voice concerned.

"Yep! Hope you guys weren't planning to leave today."

"No," Arthur said with a flat tone, earning him surprised looks from Kiku and Emma. Alfred looked secretly pleased by the news, and Arthur realized for the first time that it was so easy to convince Alfred to go on dates because Alfred was interested in him from the very first moment they met. Arthur felt like crying. The universe was playing a cruel joke on them; all of the dates in the world would never amount to anything.

"Do you need to sit down?" Emma asked him. "You look paler than normal."

"Let me show you the best coffeeshop in town!" Alfred offered. "You'll feel better with a hot cup of joe. Hey... dude?"

The concerned voices faded into background noise as Arthur's heart pounded in his ears. Despite the cold temperature, it was suddenly too warm and a wave of exhaustion threatened to send him reeling to the ground. He had slept the night before... hadn't he? His brain and the rest of his body seemed to disagree. His brain won and the world slipped into darkness.

* * *

Waking up in the bed was such a familiar sensation that it took Arthur a moment to realize that a few things were different this time. The alarm wasn't ringing, Rick Astley wasn't singing, and he had a cold compress on his head. With a tired moan, he glanced out of the corner of his eye at the clock and saw that it was still mid-morning.

"...lique says that he hasn't taken a proper vacation in five years," Emma murmured. "They put him on this fluff piece just to make him take a break."

Kiku coughed and meaningfully glanced between Emma and Arthur, who was now fully conscious. "Arthur-san, you should drink some water," he advised, pressing a glass into Arthur's hand.

"Thanks." Arthur took the glass with a slightly unsteady hand. He used his elbow to lift himself off the pillow and slowly began to drink. The water helped clear his head. When he finished, he set the glass on the nightstand and glanced about the room.

Emma gave him a sly smile. "If you're looking for that cute American, he rushed down to the kitchen to get a few things for you after he carried you up here."

"Do you want us to call a doctor?" Kiku asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No, thank you." He sighed. "I'm sorry for being a pain this trip. You've both put a lot of work into this piece and I haven't been very appreciative."

Emma arched an eyebrow. "You didn't hit your head when you fainted, did you?"

"It hasn't been any trouble," Kiku replied politely. It was a little difficult to tell from his expression, but Arthur thought that the cameraman seemed pleased by the compliment and apology. It was the least the two deserved. Arthur felt guilty for all of the days when he had ignored them to go run off with Alfred. They might not remember, but _he_ did, and it didn't speak well of his character.

A knock on the door lightened the atmosphere, particularly when Alfred strode into the room holding a tray loaded with breakfast food and several cups of coffee.

"Hey, you're awake!" Alfred said with a pleasant smile as he set the tray on the bed next to Arthur. "Mrs. Barclay said you didn't have any breakfast this morning, so that's probably why you passed out. I'm not supposed to bring this tray back unless it's empty."

Arthur's eyes widened as he took in the sheer amount of food. There were scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and muffins, a tiny amount of fruit, and even some oatmeal. He was pretty sure it would be enough food to last him the entire day. "This is supposed to be for everyone, right?" he said glancing around the room.

"Oh, I was really hoping to try the cafe's waffles," Emma demurred. "And then Kiku and I need to fix our travel arrangements."

"I don't mind watching him if you two need to head off," Alfred offered with a cheerful smile. "I mean, I was planning to spend this time on the interview anyway."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you!" Emma gushed. "You were _so_ kind to carry Arthur back to his room. I really can't thank you enough." She giggled as Alfred blushed at the effusive praise and even had the audacity to wink at Arthur as she slipped out the door with Kiku in tow. "Good luck," she mouthed.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the heaping platter of food. "I hope you're planning to eat some of this," he said, pushing the tray towards Alfred. He had seen enough of Alfred's eating habits to know that it wouldn't be a problem to convince the American to finish off the food.

"Sure," Alfred agreed happily, grabbing one of the muffins and eating as he talked. "But you're going to have to drink the tea."

"What t—" Arthur stared in shock to see a cup of Earl Grey on the tray. It was even Twinning's brand, which wasn't his favorite, but was certainly leagues ahead of Lipton. "Where did you find this?" he gasped.

Alfred shrugged cheerfully. "One of the other guests had some tea bags and she offered it to me when she saw me running around the kitchen."

Arthur felt a brief stab of jealousy that Alfred had managed to find tea when he had failed so many times but he pushed the thought aside in favor of taking a delicious sip of hot tea. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the taste. With a blissful sigh, Arthur leaned his back against the headboard. He opened his eyes to find Alfred eating the bacon and giving him an amused look.

"You really like tea, huh?"

"Let's just say that I named my cat Earl Grey."

"Really?" Alfred grinned. "I bet he's a cutie."

"Well, he's not very fond of people. He hisses when you get into his personal space. And he doesn't purr very often."

"Yeah, but I bet he's the sweetest kitty in the world when he decides he likes you."

"He is," Arthur agreed, smiling softly as he thought about the way Earl Gray would occasionally curl into his lap when he was reading a book. The fact that his affectionate moments were infrequent meant that each one was all the more special.

They ate in silence for a few more minutes and, as Arthur had hoped, Alfred finished off most of the food on his own. Arthur felt a pang in his chest as he watched Alfred eat another slice of toast. He was so kind and generous, and it didn't seem like there was anything Arthur could do for him in return.

"Thank you for everything," Arthur said, meeting Alfred's gaze with complete sincerity. "I'm just a stranger, and you've done so much for me."

"Hey, people are just strangers until you get to know them better."

Arthur shook his head and smiled. He was such a cynic that he found it hard to believe there were people like Alfred in the world. Yet the truth was sitting right in front of him, acting just as kindly as he had every other day. For all his kindness, Alfred deserved thanks in return. "If there were something I could do for you, what would it be?"

"Oh, don't worry about it! You've already given me a breakfast!"

" _You're_ the one who brought up the breakfast tray, so that hardly counts. Isn't there something you want? Something I could do for you today?

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side.

Arthur decided to tell the truth—it wasn't like he had anything left to lose. "Let's just say, hypothetically, that I'm caught in a time loop and living the same day over and over again. If I were to make today your perfect day, what would it be?"

Alfred gave him a concerned look. "Uh... you didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No! I've honestly been repeating the same day forty times now. Look, I can prove it." Arthur took a deep breath. "You're 26 years old and you were born on July Fourth. You love to ice skate. You wrote your senior thesis on using sulfur pellets to counteract the effects of climate change, but only after you concluded that giant robots with shiny shields weren't a viable solution. You have a blue dream catcher that hangs above your bed. If you see a dog, you will pet it, and say that it was the best part of your day. You have terrible taste in movies and sometimes you chew with your mouth open. You're kind to everyone you meet, even people who don't... really deserve it."

Alfred gaped. "Dude... can you read my mind?"

"It's not mind reading. _You_ told me all that. You just don't remember because the day keeps repeating itself."

"Whoa." A normal person might wonder if Arthur was a stalker, but Alfred just leaned closer, his eyes shining with delight. "Do you think it's _aliens_?" he asked. "Or maybe you're trapped in a worm hole!"

"Wait. You actually believe me?"

"Yeah." Alfred nodded. "When I saw you... I felt like I had met you before. And when you passed out, I _knew_ I had carried you before."

"You remember that?" Arthur demanded, his voice rising in astonishment. He had thought that all memory of his drunken escapades disappeared when the day rebooted. He found himself flushing with embarrassment.

"Not really. It was more a feeling than a memory. What happened?"

"Well... we went drinking at Cookie's. You had your usual, a Yuengling lager, and I went on the piss until you carried me back here."

"Huh," Alfred scrunched up his face in thought. "I wish I could remember."

Arthur snorted. "I'm glad you can't."

"You know what? I think I should spend the rest of the day with you. As an objective witness, just to see what happens."

"Oh dear, you make it sound like a science project."

Despite Arthur's lack of enthusiasm, he was grateful to finally have someone believe him and want to help. To help Alfred 'observe' Arthur, they ended up spending most of the day lounging around Arthur's room. They chatted and played card games, and Arthur thought it was one of the best days they had spent together. If he had to spend the rest of his life living on repeat, he could do a lot worse.

"Give me your queens," Alfred said.

"What are you planning to do with her? I thought you didn't like queens," Arthur retorted in mock-annoyance as he handed over a card from his hand.

Alfred grinned. "Nah, it's kings we don't like. Speaking of which, you got any of those?"

"If you kept up on the news, you would know the answer is no. Go fish."

Arthur eked out a victory in the end and as he shuffled the cards, he realized that he had just spent an enjoyable two hours playing a child's card game with a child in a man's body. There was really only one explanation, and it shocked him. He was in love. Even worse, he was in love with someone who would always forget their time together.

"Hey, everything okay?" Alfred asked him.

"I'm fine," Arthur lied. He kept up a stiff upper lip for the rest of the day. There was no sense in ruining a lovely day. They had dinner with Kiku and Emma, who made the struggle worse for Arthur as they kept giving him sly looks across the dinner table. They didn't actually _say_ anything when he left with Alfred, but he could see it in their eyes. Little did they know that nothing was going to happen. Nothing was ever going to happen.

When the clock ticked midnight, Alfred jumped off the bed and cried with glee, "We did it! See? It's February third now!"

"It's not until 6am that the loops begins again," Arthur replied with a sad smile.

"What?!" Alfred sat back down on the bed, crossing his arms indignantly. "That's not fair! It's supposed to be midnight."

"I'm afraid not everything works the way Disney tells you."

"Damn. You up for another game of Pitch?" Alfred asked. He yawned. "Crap, I shoulda gotten some coffee."

"Don't tire yourself out on my account," Arthur replied as he flipped to the next page of his book. He had read it three times already, but he never got sick of Terry Pratchett. "Asleep, awake, I don't think it makes any difference."

"But I want to find a way to help you!"

"I know." Arthur reached over and patted Alfred's hand. "And you _have_ helped me. You've made every day better." He leaned against his pile of pillows and gave Alfred a thoughtful look as he set aside his book. "You know... you never did answer my question about your idea of a perfect day."

"Didn't I?" Alfred grinned and laid down next to Arthur on his own humungous pile of pillows. (They had raided the closet and the laundry room at Alfred's suggestion and Arthur did not feel even a smidgeon of regret.) "Well, it probably involves a warm summer day, a white sand beach, some piña coladas, and _you_ ," he suggested with an impish smile.

"That sounds wonderful," Arthur agreed, "but I'm afraid we're stuck in Punxsutawney in _February_ , so try again."

"Hmm." The American's grin slowly shifted to a thoughtful look. "Well... if it's a perfect day, then it's got to be perfect for everybody, right? If I were you, I would find everything that goes wrong during the day and figure out a way to fix it. You've got a superpower, so you could be a superhero, swooping in to save the day!"

"Of course your idea would involve superheroes," Arthur replied with a chuckle. They lapsed into silence as he returned to his novel. After a time he stopped reading and just stared at the page, seriously considering Alfred's idea. He wasn't sure there was much value to fixing something that would just go wrong again the next day, but he rather liked the idea of allowing Alfred to live his dream of being a superhero. With a little help from Arthur, he could save the day, and his enthusiasm wouldn't be dimmed by the knowledge that the day was just going to repeat again. As a few snores intruded into Arthur's musings, he glanced over and realized that Alfred had fallen asleep.

Arthur pulled a blanket over the sleeping young man and smiled at him fondly. Alfred looked so peaceful in his sleep. Even though Arthur hated living the same day over and over again, he decided that there was one part of the day he liked. Even if he was stuck in Punxsutawney forever, he was grateful that he had been given the chance to get to know the young American. Alfred was the kindest, sweetest, handsomest person he had ever met in his life. Arthur had never known anyone who was so naturally kind-hearted and friendly. And he knew that, as a somewhat bitter workaholic with a drinking problem, he didn't really _deserve_ someone like Alfred. Still, he promised himself he would try.

Arthur kissed Alfred on the forehead and whispered a promise across the pillows. "You're perfect and I swear I am going to give you the perfect day."

* * *

It took Arthur a fortnight to identify all of the problems around town that needed fixing, but time seemed to fly now that he had a purpose. Even if none of it lasted, it was still worth it to see the way people thanked him for his kindness and responded to it with more kindness in return. As Arthur worked on identifying everything that could go wrong in one day, he also recrafted his introductory description of the festivities from something bland into an elegant and informative treatise on weather folklore.

Arthur described how the traditions of Groundhog Day were cut from the same cloth as the Pagan festival of Imbolc (the seasonal turning point of the Celtic calendar, celebrated on February 1) and bore resemblance to other weather prediction holidays ranging from German traditions during Candlemas to the English lore of St. Swithun's Day. As Arthur described the greater picture, he tossed in a few amusing asides:

"Phil has even taken a few political stands during his many years. He once announced during Prohibition that, if he were kept from drinking the 'hard stuff', there would be _sixty_ weeks of winter instead of the usual six."

He ended his speech with a reminder that Groundhog's Day, like all seasonal holidays, was a celebration of the eternal cycle of the seasons. It was a promise that snow would eventually melt, bringing the water of life to the new growth of spring. Arthur's voice grew a little hoarse as he finished with a paean to his own long winter:

"When Martin warned that 'winter is coming,' he meant for winter to symbolize a life bleak and bereft of hope. But winter is just another step in the cycle of life. Standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter."

Emma and Kiku stared at him for a long moment and some of the nearby spectators even gave him a rousing round of applause.

"That was really good! How did you have time to research all that?" Emma asked.

Arthur shrugged modestly. "Oh, I found a few gaps here and there." He turned around and spotted Alfred clapping behind him with an amazed expression on his face.

"Wow. You guys still want to do the interview with Phil?" Alfred asked. "'Cause I'm not sure there's anything more we could tell you about Groundhog's Day."

"Of course we still want to do the interview," Arthur replied as he reached over to help Kiku carry some of the heavy camera equipment. "No speech is a substitute for a small and furry adorable animal. By the way, thank you for arranging it, Emma. I'm sure it will give you some wonderful footage for the show."

She blushed prettily. "It wasn't a problem at all! You know how much I love festivals centered around cute critters."

True to his word, Arthur did a bang up job with the interview and he smiled when he watched Emma and Kiku discuss their plans for the footage excitedly. If he ever got the chance, he promised himself that he would put in a good word to their supervisors. They both deserved more chances to let their talents shine.

"Hey... would you, um, be interested in getting a cup of coffee?" Alfred asked a little hesitantly after they finished the interview.

"I'll have to take a blizzard-check," Arthur replied, resisting the urge to pinch Alfred's pink cheeks as he gave the perplexed American a list of times and places that Arthur had quickly scrawled down earlier that morning. "You need to hurry up if you want to catch little Jimmy when he falls out of the tree."

Alfred's brows furrowed in confusion. "But... how...? What...?"

"Just trust me," Arthur said as he gave Alfred a gentle push in the right direction. He watched from a distance as Alfred caught the young boy and smiled at the way Alfred seemed so genuinely thrilled to help the somewhat ungrateful child. He saw Alfred glance down at the list and then dash off to fix the next problem in the nick of time.

"What was that about?" Emma asked.

"Just a favor for a friend," Arthur replied, turning around to talk to his two coworkers. "Listen, we're not going to make it out of here before the coming blizzard. Would you like to stick around for the big Groundhog bash?"

"You're not just looking for another excuse to get drunk, are you?" Emma asked.

"No, believe me, I've had enough hangovers to last me a lifetime," Arthur replied honestly. "I've heard they're low on volunteers and I was thinking that with Kiku's technical expertise and your staging experience, we could help host the most successful date auction ever." Seeing the disbelieving looks on their faces, he decided to throw in his trump card. "They're raising money for the Foundation for Cute Fluffy Animals."

"I'm in," Kiku instantly replied.

"Me too!" Emma eagerly agreed.

Helping with the organization and set-up took the rest of the afternoon and all of Arthur's considerable planning skills, but he was quite pleased with the results. And so was Alfred, judging by the stunned look on the young man's face as he walked into the exquisitely decorated community center. They had set up a dance floor and a place for a live band. Blue and silver streamers hung from the ceiling, glittering under the fairy lights. Given Phil's prediction for six more weeks of winter, Arthur thought that a winter wonderland theme was rather appropriate.

Alfred gaped as he slowly turned around and took in the whole room. "How did you manage this?" he asked in disbelief. "And how did you know that all of this stuff on the list was going to happen?"

"It's a long story," Arthur replied. "I'll tell it to you tomorrow, if you like. In the mean time... would you care for a dance?"

"Okay, but I'm gonna hold you to that promise."

"Of course," Arthur lied as the room started to fill with more people and they both looked for an open area to dance.

They both turned their heads toward the stage as they heard arguing voices backstage. Arthur threaded his way through the crowd with Alfred following closely on his heels. Both looked on with dismay when they discovered that the lead guitarist for the band had broken his arm slipping on the ice outside. Arthur sighed and added the broken arm to his ever-expanding mental list of preventable accidents. No matter how much he tried to fix, it seemed there was always something new that popped up.

"What are we going to do now?" the remaining band members asked. Unfortunately, Arthur didn't have an answer for them. The distinguished old gentleman were the only musicians he had been able to find on rather short notice.

"Wait... don't _you_ play the guitar?" Alfred asked Arthur. He had a confused look on his face, like he wasn't quite sure how he knew about Arthur's musical talents.

"Yes, but—" was all Arthur managed to reply before he found himself dragooned into the band as its new guitarist and forced into a very quick practice session. He soon found himself on stage, holding an unfamiliar guitar and staring at the bright lights. He looked for a familiar face in the crowd and smiled when he found it. As they started to play, Arthur lost himself in the joy of the music. His only regret was that he had lost a chance to dance with Alfred.

When the date auction began an hour later, Arthur prepared to step offstage, only to find himself pulled back on as the first eligible bachelor. "Wait a second!" he protested to Kiku. "I didn't sign up for this!"

"Trust me," Kiku replied with an enigmatic smile.

Perhaps it was his guitar skills, or maybe it was the 'British accent' that Americans loved so much, but the bids for a date with Arthur Kirkland quickly jumped higher and higher, drawing close to one-hundred dollars. He listened to two women create a small bidding war and wondered if it would be wrong of him to schedule the date for February _third_ , secure in the knowledge that it would never actually happen.

"Three hundred thirty-nine dollars and eighty-eight cents!" a masculine voice suddenly shouted from the middle of the room, stopping the bidding war in its tracks.

"Sold!" the auctioneer cried, and the crowd parted to reveal the boyish-faced man who had placed the winning bid. Arthur felt a stab of disappointment when he realized the winner wasn't Alfred.

It all happened so quickly that Arthur was still in a daze as the man reached for his hand and pulled him off stage. He looked strangely familiar, like a smooth-shaven Ricky Gervais, but Arthur couldn't place the face. They moved out of the way as the crowd began bidding on the next bachelor. Arthur pummeled his brain trying to remember where he had met the man before. After fifty days reliving the same day in the small town, he thought he knew almost everyone. "I'm sorry, but have we met before?" he finally asked.

The man smiled and swayed the beat of the music. "We're no strangers... to love," he replied cryptically.

"Excuse me?" Arthur demanded, drawing the attention of a few nearby gawkers.

"You know the rules and so do I."

"Yes, I am aware of what a date auction entails."

The man grinned. "A full commitment's what I'm thinking of."

Seriously creeped out, Arthur yanked his hand free and took a step back. Despite Kiku's promoses, he wished he had jumped out of the date auction when he still had the chance. "Then you'd best dial down your expectations."

"You wouldn't get this from any other guy."

"Good!" Arthur cried. "I'm quite happy without a stalker."

The man pouted. "I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling."

"I don't care!" Arthur said as he pushed his way through the crowd. He was going to find the auctioneer and get this situation sorted out. There was no way he was going out with the strangely familiar stalker with personal boundary issues. But before he made it more than a few steps, the man grabbed his hand again.

"Gotta make you understand!"

As Arthur whirled around to push the man away from him, another person stepped between them and punched the creep in the face.

"Get out of here, Rick," Alfred said with a cold look on his face. "You were fun seven years ago, but we're sick of you now."

"Never gonna say goodbye," the man mumbled as he slunk away in defeat. Arthur would have felt a moment of pity if he wasn't so busy feeling an immense sense of relief.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked, giving Arthur a look of genuine concern.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, thank you. I really wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah, he tends to pop up out of nowhere."

"Well... since I seem to have the evening free, would you care for a date?"

"Heck yeah!" Alfred agreed. They claimed their coats from the racks and hurried out into the cold winter night.

Remembering their wonderful first date, Arthur led the American to the ice skating rink. They chatted happily as they laced up their skates and then glided across the ice in graceful tandem. It was like they were dancing. They swirled and switched places, drawing admiring glances from the few other people on the ice. Arthur even made Alfred gasp when he executed a perfect jump and landed nimbly on his skates.

"Dude! You're amazing!"

"I had a wonderful teacher."

They didn't stop skating until their cheeks were flushed and they were both out of breath. It was all of the dizzy euphoria of drinking with none of the nasty side effects. They sat down on the nearest bench, thighs pressed together as they leaned close. They didn't really need to huddle to stay warm, but Arthur certainly wasn't going to complain about the close contact. He looked into Alfred's beautiful eyes and felt his insides melt with the warmth of the affectionate gaze. Acting on their unspoken desires, both leaned in for a kiss. It was warm and sweet and _perfect_. Arthur would have been happy to stay in an endless loop of that single kiss. Yet as they leaned back, a few snowflakes began to fall, sparkling white against the dark sky.

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. "That... that's never happened before," he murmured to himself.

"What? You haven't seen snow?" Alfred teased. He leaned in for another kiss and Arthur happily obliged. He felt like he was fifteen again, caught up in the excitement of young love. Everything was new and fresh, which was quite a miracle, given that he had lived the same day more than sixty times before. This time when they pulled back, Alfred glanced down at his watch and frowned. "Crap, it's almost nine."

"Did you need to get back to your grandmother?" Arthur asked, giving Alfred a gentle pat on the hand. "Don't worry. We can continue this tomorrow," he lied, feeling his heart break a little at the thought of Alfred leaving him yet again.

"No." Alfred blushed. "I was thinking that there were maybe some, um, things at the store I might want to buy depending on how this date goes... but it closes at nine."

Although Arthur normally prided himself on his intelligence, it took him a few moments to realize what Alfred was saying. The longer he stared, the darker Alfred's blush grew, until the lad was beet red. As Alfred opened his mouth, probably to apologize for what he had suggested, Arthur pressed a finger against his lips and put the young man's fears to rest. "If you're thinking of condoms and lube, I can assure you that I have both."

"Really?" Alfred grinned. "You really want to?"

"More than you could possibly imagine," Arthur murmured, just before he pressed the American down onto the bench and kissed him senseless.

Alfred responded eagerly, slipping his deft hands under Arthur's coat. His large hands felt warm compared to the bracing cold air. A moment later Alfred bolted up with a sudden realization. "Wait! There's one more thing. Can I meet you at your room in fifteen minutes?" he asked.

Despite his confusion, Arthur nodded. "Barclay's, room three!" he called, feeling rather puzzled as he watched Alfred dash off through the snow. The date had been going so well, and now he wasn't sure what was running through Alfred's head.

Seeing nothing else to do, Arthur returned to his room and changed into something more comfortable. He waited and wondered.

Ten minutes later, a breathless American knocked on his door with a grocery bag in one hand and a smile on his face. He closed the door behind him and took off his coat. "Sorry I ran off like that," Alfred said as pulled out a small plastic carton filled with shriveled brown fruit. "But I had to get these for you."

"You bought me... dried plums?" Arthur asked, his brows scrunched in confusion. Even after all of their time together, Alfred still found ways to surprise him.

"No, they're dates."

"Dates?" Arthur stared for a moment longer, before realization dawned. " _Oh_. I see... Well, there are definitely more than three of them."

"Yeah." Alfred looked bashful and hopeful and dashing all at the same time.

Arthur opened the package and took a bite of one of the dates. He chewed the sweet fruit thoughtfully as a smile crossed his lips. "You know," he said when he finished chewing, "There isn't a magical number of dates required before sex." He paused and ate another date. "The only question is what both of us want." He stepped closer to Alfred and finished off a third. "And I just want you to know that I want you so badly it hurts."

The rest of the dates tumbled to the ground when Alfred scooped Arthur into his arms, smothering him with kisses as he carried the Englishman to the bed. Arthur tried to remember every sweet touch and each lingering caress, all of the delicious moans and whispered promises. He tried to keep a slow pace, to let them both savor the delicious kisses and gentle embrace. But both soon lost themselves in the heat of the moment, building up to a breathless climax and collapsing onto the bed in a blissful euphoria.

With a satiated smile, Arthur curled next to Alfred under the blankets and watched as the love of his life drifted off to sleep. Even if he was stuck in a Pennsylvania winter forever, he knew he would cherish this sweet moment of love-making for all of eternity.

* * *

" _Never gonna say goodbye_ ," the alarm crooned. " _Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you_."

Arthur blinked in the early morning light. His head felt clearer than usual, but when he glanced over at the clock, it still said 6am. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and imagined Alfred kissing him. A second later, he felt a light brush of lips against his forehead and someone reached across him to turn off the alarm.

"Sorry, guess the boys forgot to switch the tape yesterday," Alfred apologized. He smiled at Arthur, who could only stare back at him in amazement. "I need to do the morning weather report, but what do you say to meeting back here at ten?"

Unable to find his voice, Arthur simply nodded. He watched Alfred gather his crumpled clothes from the floor and get dressed. While Alfred used the bathroom, Arthur wrapped a sheet around his waist and walked over to the window. There was no one gathered at the town square and the streets were covered in snow. "It's tomorrow," he whispered in sheer amazement. Today was _tomorrow_. Well, today was today, but it was yesterday's tomorrow. He brushed the semantics aside. He knew what he meant.

While Arthur was still staring out the window, Alfred swung by for another kiss. "See you soon!" he called cheerfully, waving as he headed out the door. "You still owe me an explanation for that list, you know."

"Of course," Arthur replied with a smile, resisting the urge to jump for joy. After Alfred left, he crawled back into the warmth of the bed and grinned happily. It was the first day of the rest of his life, and he couldn't be more thrilled. Arthur knew where he would start. It was time to cash in some of his accumulated vacation days. He was going to book a room for two at a beach resort on a tropical island with an endless supply of sunny days and piña coladas. After such a long winter, he desperately wanted to go somewhere warm. And, more importantly, after everything Alfred had done for him, the kind American deserved at least _two_ perfect days.

* * *

The End...?


	2. Regular Version

" _Babe_ ," the radio setting on the alarm clock crooned as Arthur groaned and tried to find the snooze button. " _I got you babe._ " He blinked at the numbers and groaned again. " _I got you babe_."

"Shut up," Arthur grumbled. His pounding head told him that the butterscotch schnapps the night before had been a mistake, but drinking seemed like such a reasonable response to being assigned to work on a fluff piece on silly American weather traditions in the backwoods of Pennsylvania. At least it was only one day, he reminded himself.

As Arthur began the arduous process of rolling out of bed, a chipper American voice giving a weather forecast followed the end of the song. "Rise and shine, folks! And don't forget your booties because it's cold out there!" the announcer said cheerfully. "Plan on icy roads later today because the National Weather Service is calling for a big blizzard thingie. But don't worry! The weather should be clear for the festivities this morning, so come on down to Gobbler's Knob to see our finest and furriest weatherman make his prediction. The big question on everyone's mind today―"

The relentlessly cheerful voice was too much for Arthur to handle. He knocked the alarm to the ground and grinned in satisfaction as the inane chatter finally stopped. The Brit stumbled to the bathroom. Ignoring the relentless drumbeats of pain in his head, he washed his face and scowled at his bloodshot eyes. He remembered drinking during his university days without any ill effects, but ever since turning thirty the year before, the hangovers seemed much worse. Or perhaps it was his drinking that had gotten worse.

The smell of bacon wafting in from the hallway made Arthur queasy, but he headed down to the dining room anyway after a quick shower and a change of clothes. With any luck, his bed and breakfast would have a nice cup of tea to help him feel human again.

It was a decent enough bed-and-breakfast. The rooms were spacious and the furniture was comfortable. It was certainly much better than the fleabag Motel 6 where his cameraman and producer were staying. And even though the decorations were a little old-fashioned, so was Arthur, so he didn't mind.

"Good morning!" the owner called, smiling at Arthur when he reached the ground floor. "Did you sleep well, Mr. Kirkland?"

"Tolerably well," he replied with a shrug.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"I don't suppose there's any possibility of a cup of tea?"

"Um," she frowned and glanced back toward the kitchen door, "I think we might have some iced tea mixes?"

"Never mind." Arthur shuddered at the horrific thought of _powdered_ tea as he finished pulling on his coat. Perhaps there would be some sort of cafe in downtown Punxsutawney. Even a Starbucks would be acceptable.

"Will you be checking out today?" the owner called as Arthur reached the door.

"Definitely," he promised. There was no way he was going to spend a minute more than he had to in such a rusticated little town.

Even this early in the morning, the area around the town green was already crowded with slack-jawed yokels dressed in thick coats. Arthur fought his way through the cheerful throngs, only to discover that the closest coffee shop served nothing but coffee. How unfortunate. Still grumbling to himself, Arthur found his cameraman, Kiku, and his producer, Emma, waiting for him at the edge of the main stage.

"Arthur! Did you have trouble finding us?" Emma asked gently, her polite way of letting Arthur know that he was late.

He shrugged. "No, but I _did_ have trouble finding a cup of tea."

All around them the spectators began to cheer and Kiku lifted up his camera to start filming. This was what they had crossed an ocean to see. A weather-predicting rodent. Arthur tried to contain his disdain as a group of men in top hats gathered with solemn dignity on the stage. The youngest one, a handsome young lad in his mid-to-late twenties, approached the fake burrow at the center of the stage. "It's groundhog time!" he shouted and the cheers grew louder.

Arthur plastered on a smile and faced the camera. "Reporting from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, I'm here for America's oldest groundhog festival. Crowds as large as 40,000 have gathered since 1886 to celebrate this quirky holiday. Why, you may ask? Well, according to Germanic folklore, if the groundhog sees his shadow and returns to his burrow, there will be six more weeks of winter. It's very cold right now, so I'm sure the crowd is anxious to hear what this marvelous rodent has to say."

"Less sarcasm!" Emma whispered, pitching her voice softly enough that the microphones wouldn't pick up any of her words.

Arthur rolled his eyes. The chance of him giving up his dry wit was about as likely as the groundhog emerging from his hole, putting on a fedora, and doing the salsa. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long for the main event. The groundhog peeked its head out of the burrow and promptly ducked back inside for cover, drawing boos from the crowd.

"Oh, dear." Arthur tsked. "It seems that winter will last another six weeks here. Something we would already know if we had looked at a calendar, seeing as how March 21 is the official start of spring."

Emma sighed. "I said _less_ , not more."

"I'm afraid all of the sarcasm inhibitors in my brain require tea to function." He turned to Kiku. "Will you be able to take out the red from my eyes? I'm afraid my shampoo this morning didn't agree with me."

"Of course, Arthur-san," Kiku replied with a carefully blank expression.

This time it was Emma's turn to roll her eyes. "Maybe you confused it with the scotch bottle," she muttered.

Before Arthur could deliver a witty retort, a loud American voice practically shouted in Arthur's ear, "Hey folks! I'm Alfred! You ready to do the interview with Phil?"

Arthur jumped and whirled around to discover the young man who had handled the groundhog standing directly behind him. He had taken off his hat, leaving one hair sticking up at a ridiculous angle. Pausing to admire the lad's chiseled physique and bright blue eyes, Arthur decided that America did have a _few_ good points. He offered his palm for a handshake and was pleasantly surprised that Alfred's grip was warm and firm without trying to crush his hand.

"Who's Phil?" he asked. He didn't remember making plans for any interviews, so Emma must have scheduled it earlier in the morning.

The cheerful American jerked his thumb towards the stage. "That little fella over there! Punxsutawney Phil is what we call him."

"This is an interview with the _groundhog_?"

Alfred's eyes widened. "Whoa, you're British!"

"Yes," Arthur rolled his eyes, "that _would_ explain why I work for the BBC."

"Less sarcasm!" Emma insisted in a stage voice. She turned toward Alfred and smiled as she shook his hand. "Mr. Jones, thank you so much for scheduling this with us."

"Sure, no prob! I love showing off the little guy."

"When did we schedule this?" Arthur asked Emma as they followed the American to a small area behind the stage.

" _I_ scheduled it while you were on your third shot," Emma retorted.

"Ah." Trying to maintain his dignity, Arthur joined Alfred as he walked over to a carrier for a small animal. Through the metal wiring, Arthur could see an unhappy groundhog. He could sympathize; Groundhog's Day probably wasn't much fun for the groundhog either. After Kiku set up his cameras and some additional lighting, Arthur proceeded to interview a creature that was technically a type of squirrel. Of course, Phil didn't speak English, so Alfred 'translated' his little squeaks from 'groundhogese.'

"So... Phil... how old are you?" Arthur asked, starting with the basics.

The groundhog squeaked and squirmed in Alfred's hands while the American scrunched his eyebrows and did some quick math. "He says he's 129."

"Really. He doesn't look a day over three."

Alfred grinned. "He drinks an elixir of 'Groundhog Punch' at the summer Groundhog Picnic that adds seven years to his life each time."

"That must be some strong punch. Well, we all know what you do today, Phil. But what do you do the other 364 days of the year?"

"He stays in his burrow at the Punxsutawney Library with his wife, Phyllis."

"His wife." Arthur arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Do you mean to tell me that Pennsylvania has recognized marriage between two groundhogs for longer than it has recognized marriage between two people of the same sex?"

"Yeah, I guess it sounds kinda depressing when you put it that way. Phil says that it's better late than never."

"Fair enough. What are your thoughts on the holiday, Phil?"

The groundhog made another squeaky effort to escape Alfred's grip. The American just readjusted his handhold as he 'translated' the noises. "Yep! He says that if he had his way, every day would be Groundhog Day."

It was an utterly undignified experience that Arthur hoped never to repeat again in his life. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when it was over. As Emma and Kiku reviewed the footage, Alfred shook Arthur's hand and gave him another big grin. "How long are you in town? Let me know if there's anything you want to see here in Punxsutawney!"

"We're heading off right now," Arthur replied. "But thank you for the offer." As he turned his back, he missed the disappointed look on Alfred's face. Leaving Kiku and Emma to deal with the equipment, Arthur gratefully returned to the bed and breakfast, packed his bags, and checked out. He was more than ready to leave the sleepy little town behind.

The town had other plans.

As Kiku and Emma finished loading the car, it began to snow. Arthur watched the flakes fall with growing alarm. Although he urged Kiku to drive faster, by the time they drove past the city limits, snow and ice had already coated the road. After just a few more minutes of driving, Kiku declared defeat. The streets were impassable. They returned to the hotel and discovered that it didn't matter anyway; their flight had been cancelled.

Arthur sighed. It seemed he was stuck in Punxsutawney for one more night.

* * *

Arthur woke up with a hangover as the chorus of Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe" filled the room. He wondered if he was going through tea withdrawals, because he certainly hadn't drunk any alcohol. Before long the song switched over to a cheerful voice. "Rise and shine, folks! And don't forget your booties because it's cold out there!"

This time Arthur recognized the voice. It was Alfred. But that didn't explain why Alfred was repeating his forecast from the day before.

"...down to Gobbler's Knob to see our finest and furriest weatherman make his prediction. The big question on everyone's mind today: will Phil see his shadow or will we have an early spring?"

Arthur frowned in confusion as he turned off the alarm. He pulled on his clothes and headed outside, wondering if he could find a different coffeeshop. One with some tea.

As he stepped outside, he was surprised to find bustling crowds and streets clear of snow. Thinking there might be a post-Groundhog Day event, he wandered to the main stage. He noticed Kiku and Emma standing in the same spot as yesterday.

"Arthur!" Emma called. "Did you have trouble finding us?"

"I didn't realize there was something going on today as well," Arthur said, glancing around in confusion. He didn't understand why the spectators had returned.

"They're all waiting for the groundhog," Kiku explained politely as he finished preparing his camera for filming.

"Didn't we do this yesterday?"

Emma and Kiku shared a concerned look. "Are you still drunk?" Emma asked.

Their conversation was interrupted by cheers as Alfred once again opened the door to the groundhog's burrow. Watching in complete confusion, Arthur barely noticed as Emma nudged him to give his 'Groundhog Day' introduction. Still feeling dazed, he repeated the words from memory. If Emma and Kiku noticed a deterioration in his performance, they were too polite to say so.

When they finished filming, Arthur rubbed his temples. He wasn't sure if _he_ was going insane or if everyone else was, but neither option sounded good.

He jumped as Alfred shouted from behind, "Hey folks! I'm Alfred! You ready to do the interview with Phil?"

"Oh, god. Not the groundhog again," Arthur complained.

"Whoa, you're British!"

"Yes, just as British as I was yesterday."

Alfred laughed. "Sorry! Bet you get that all the time."

"Quite often," Arthur agreed. It was one of the many things he disliked about spending time in the States. Americans always seemed shocked to discover that some people lived in different countries and spoke English differently ( _i.e._ better).

Arthur briefly wondered if the entire town was pranking him as he once again sat down for an 'interview' with Phil. Although it seemed like far too much effort for one measly British journalist, he had seen how low American reality shows would stoop for ratings. Arthur surreptitiously glanced around for hidden cameras.

"Hey... you okay?" Alfred asked, giving him a worried smile.

"I'm fine. I was just wondering how long it will take before someone jumps out and tells me this is one big joke," Arthur replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emma bury her face in her hands.

"Oh, no!" Alfred insisted earnestly. "We really believe in the groundhog here!"

The American's eyes sparkled with such pure honesty that Arthur found himself doubting his own memories. Perhaps he had just suffered from a particularly vivid dream as a result of the butterscotch schnapps? Or maybe it _was_ a symptom of tea withdrawal.

He went through the motions for the rest of the interview and sighed in relief when Emma and Kiku decided that they had enough footage. At the end, Alfred shook his hand again and once again offered him a tour of the town's attractions. "Let me know if there's anything you want to see here in Punxsutawney!"

Arthur opened his mouth to decline and quickly changed his mind. "I don't suppose there are any places here that sell tea?" he asked.

"Um," Alfred wrinkled his nose in thought. "The County Market might have some?"

"Thanks." Arthur followed Alfred's directions to the grocery store and discovered that the only option was Lipton. He shuddered in dismay, but held his nose and bought it anyway. After a brief chat with the B&B owner to explain that _no_ , one did not just heat up water in the microwave, he found himself sitting in the dining room with a cup of mediocre tea. The sad part was that it actually was the highlight of his day.

By that point, he had nearly convinced himself that his memories of the day before were just the byproduct of an amazingly vivid dream. But there was one other thing he wanted to check. If he was right, an oncoming blizzard would stop them from leaving the town. He wasn't sure if he preferred to be right (and stuck in Punxsutawney) or wrong (and on his way back to London). Actually, strike that, he _knew_ he would rather be a bit crazy and in London, than completely sane and stuck in the States.

"Arthur! Aren't you ready to go?" Emma asked as she and Kiku carried their suitcases into the lobby.

He shook his head and took another sip of tea. "There's no point in trying to leave now, not with this blizzard."

Kiku glanced out the window at the fluffy flakes that had just started to fall. While Emma and Kiku waited for Arthur to finish his tea, the weather outside grew steadily worse.

"Hmm," Emma said as she watched the howling winds coat the road in snow and ice. "Maybe I should see if we can schedule a later flight."

"Make sure I have a first-class seat," Arthur replied.

Despite Emma and Kiku's half-hearted attempts to entice Arthur out to dinner once the blizzard ended, he insisted on spending the rest of the day curled up in his room with a good book and some terrible tea. He didn't care if it was Lipton's. It was still better than spending any more time in Punxsutawney.

* * *

" _Babe_."

"No," Arthur groaned and curled into the fetal position.

" _I got you babe_."

"This isn't happening!"

" _ _I got you babe__."

"Not again!" Arthur crawled out of bed and looked for the box of tea he _knew_ he had purchased the day before. It was gone. The streets were clear. And judging from Alfred's cheerful announcement on the radio, it was Groundhog's Day. _Yet again_.

Arthur flung the alarm against the wall and grimaced in satisfaction as it broke into pieces. There was no way he was going to spend another day in Punxsutawney. He packed his bags and went to fetch Emma and Kiku from their spot near the stage.

"Arthur! Did you have trouble finding us?"

He skipped the chitchat. "We need to leave."

"What?" Emma blinked in confusion. "But it's just about to start!"

"My mother's in the hospital," Arthur lied. "They're not sure how much longer she has. I need to get to London immediately."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Emma said sympathetically. "Kiku and I will fetch our bags and we can leave right away."

Kiku nodded. "I will call to change the flights."

"Thank you," Arthur murmured graciously.

This time they beat the blizzard and Arthur felt his heart race in excitement as he stepped into the Pittsburgh airport. Never before in his life had he been so happy to see such a crummy little airport. It even had a Starbucks with acceptable tea!

They caught a flight from Pittsburgh to Newark and soon boarded another headed to London. Arthur tried not to grin like a maniac. Fortunately, Kiku and Emma mistook his jittery anticipation for worry and left him alone for the flight.

It was nearly midnight by the time he reached his London flat. He fed his cat, fell into bed with a grateful sigh, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Arthur woke up in Punxsutawney to the irritating, repetitive chorus of "I Got You Babe." His hangover had returned and the clock was back in perfect working order.

"Fuck you to goddamn little pieces!" he shouted as he hurled the clock against the wall. Breaking it gave him vicious pleasure, even if he knew it was only going to repair itself again by the next morning.

This day, Arthur decided, he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted. He skipped the groundhog ceremony, got shit-faced before noon, stole a guitar from the local pawn shop, burst into a second grade classroom, taught the students the _real_ lyrics to My Country 'Tis of Thee, and went to sleep in jail on charges of public intoxication. It was the most fun he had had since fresher year.

It didn't matter. He still woke up in his stupid bed at the stupid bed and breakfast at stupid o'clock while stupid Sonny and Cher sang a stupid love song.

Nothing he did mattered. He could (and did) TP the entire town and the next morning it was back to normal. After just a few days, even the drinking and petty crime sprees lost their allure. What was the point of stealing money if he couldn't keep it? Why set the groundhog free if it just reappeared the next day? He could do whatever he wanted and none of it made a lick of difference.

Arthur was stuck in his own personal hell and it was called Punxsutawney.

* * *

On the seventh day, he decided to turn the situation to his advantage. Repeating the same day over and over again gave him the ability to get to know someone very well. With that sort of knowledge, it would be easy to find the best approach to persuade that person into bed. And he knew exactly who he wanted to bed first...

Alfred F. Jones.

The American was handsome. He was friendly. And something about his eager boyish charm sent Arthur's gaydar senses tingling. So on the seventh morning, Arthur actually did the stupid groundhog interview again and this time he chuckled at Alfred's jokes to make a good impression on the cute American. By the end of the interview, the crowds had mostly dissipated, leaving Arthur alone with his tasty target. And, as always, Alfred gave him a perfect opening when he turned toward Arthur and smiled. "Let me know if there's anything you want to see here in Punxsutawney!"

"I don't suppose this place has a gay bar?" Arthur asked with a flirty smile.

"Nah. We usually just hang out at Cookie's on Wednesdays."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping for a bit of fun," Arthur replied with mock-disappointment. He heard Kiku make a small choking noise and chose to ignore it.

While Arthur devoured him with his eyes, Alfred pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "There's a date auction at the community center tonight," he suggested.

"Are _you_ on the auction block?"

Oblivious to the blatant flirting, Alfred just laughed and shook his head. "Nah. There's like one other single gay guy in town. Don't think it'd be much of a bidding war."

"I'm sure plenty of women would be happy to bid on such a handsome specimen." Arthur wondered if giving Alfred bedroom eyes would be too much. It was probably too much. He did it anyway.

Still wearing a winsome and oblivious smile, Alfred shrugged. "Maybe. But what's the point in going on a date if there's no chance it's gonna mean anything in the long run?"

Arthur paused, unsure how to respond to an attitude so foreign to his own. He loved one-night stands and found physical pleasure to be a joy in its own right. He didn't need a commitment to enjoy himself. It seemed that Alfred felt differently. But that was all right. Arthur wasn't a quitter and he had infinite tries to get his approach _exactly_ right.

"The point of a date is to learn more about the other person," he suggested, picking his words carefully to appeal to Alfred's old-fashioned sense of courtship. "So... in the interests of getting to know you better, would you care to head over to that lovely little cafe for something to drink?"

Alfred blinked and seemed to realize for the first time that Arthur was flirting with him. His face turned an adorable shade of pink. "Uh... sure."

For the next few hours, Arthur learned everything he could about Alfred. All of his likes and dislikes, all of his hopes and dreams, anything that would help Arthur get into his boxers. Alfred was more than happy to share.

Alfred was born and raised in Philadelphia, but moved to Punxsutawney after finishing college to help take care of his grandmother. He had a job as a morning weatherman at the local radio station. He wanted to travel all around the world, but dreamed of settling down in a quiet town, finding himself a cozy house with a big yard for plenty of dogs.

Most of Alfred's life story and hobbies were intriguing, with the exception of his infatuation with aliens, superheroes, and Superman, whom he described as an alien superhero. Once Arthur managed to change the subject back to better topics, he found the handsome young American to be rather pleasant company. And unlike others, Arthur didn't have to worry about driving him away with biting wit because Alfred treated the snarkiest jokes as good-natured humor. Sure, he was oblivious and a bit naive, but he proved remarkably quick-witted on certain subjects and he was curious about _everything_.

"...it even has a cool display that lets you climb into a tornado!" Alfred said, his eyes shining brightly as he described the Punxsutawney Weather Discovery Center.

"Fascinating," Arthur murmured. "What else do you do for fun here?"

"Well, do you ice skate? We've got a real nice rink."

"I can't say I've ever learned," Arthur admitted.

"Would you like to?" Alfred asked eagerly. "I can teach you!"

And that was how Arthur found himself on the Punxsutawney skating rink, struggling to maintain his balance on the slippery ice. He wanted to hold on to the rink's walls, but Alfred coaxed him into the center of the rink by holding his hands and pulling him forward. Alfred provided the propulsion, while Arthur focused on staying upright. Still holding hands, they skated around the rink in a lazy circle and after a few near-tumbles, Arthur finally found his balance.

His calves ached after just a few minutes, but he kept going so he could continue to admire the way Alfred glided effortlessly across the ice. The American showed a level of graceful movements that he certainly didn't possess while walking on the plain ground. Arthur hoped that it was a skill that transferred over to his bedroom abilities.

"We going too fast?" Alfred asked cheerfully. "You look a little warm."

"No, not at all. This is lovely." Arthur had said it to be flirty, but he realized that he was actually enjoying himself. Despite the risk of landing on his ass, skating around in circles was rather relaxing.

They passed the entrance to the rink, and Arthur tripped as a couple cut in front of them. He tumbled backwards and braced for impact. Instead of landing on the ice, he fell onto something much warmer and softer. Feeling Alfred shift beneath him, he managed to roll over and slip his knee between Alfred's thighs.

The American shot up with an impressive speed and was still blushing as he reached down to help Arthur to his feet. "Uh, maybe that's enough for today," Alfred suggested as he led Arthur to the exit. "You did real good for a beginner."

"Thank you," Arthur replied a little breathlessly. "You're my hero for catching me," he flirted shamelessly, making Alfred's cheeks flame red.

As a 'thank you', Arthur proposed dinner and a movie for the evening. The food was bland and the movie was insipid American propaganda, but Alfred didn't seem to mind, so Arthur declared it a victory.

Their walk back to his bed and breakfast was delayed by an impromptu snow fight with some teenagers on the town square. They chased the teens away and then giggled like children as they rolled around in the snow and made snow angels. 'Accidentally' rolling too far, Arthur landed on top of Alfred's chest. They both froze for a moment, giving Arthur time to enjoy the solid warmth beneath him. Despite their thick jackets, he could feel Alfred's firm chest. He liked being on top of Alfred. It would be even better once they found a bed and lost their clothes.

Feeling bold and a little frisky, he pressed his chapped lips against Alfred's warm mouth. Alfred kissed back sweetly, clearly a little unsure what to do when Arthur slipped a tongue between his parted lips. They exchanged kisses in the snow until Alfred shivered and suggested that it might be time to get Arthur back to his room.

Arthur readily agreed, walking hand-in-hand with Alfred the short distance back to the bed and breakfast. After a day of shy glances and lingering touches, he was more than ready for a passionate embrace. Eager to return to his bedroom, he tugged Alfred toward the front door and was a little surprised when Alfred didn't follow him.

"This was great," Alfred said earnestly. "I had a lot of fun."

"Yes, so did I."

"I hope you have a nice trip back to London!"

"You're... you're not coming up?" Arthur asked in surprise. He hadn't realized that Alfred wasn't including himself when he suggested going back to Arthur's room.

Alfred shook his head and smiled. "Nah, I'd better be getting home. My grandma gets worried if she doesn't have someone around the house at night.

"Oh, of course," Arthur said weakly as Alfred waved goodbye. Arthur sighed longingly and kept his gaze focused on Alfred's tight rear as the American began to walk away. He hated to see Alfred leave, but he loved to watch him go.

When the taut buttocks disappeared from view, Arthur closed the front door behind him with a loud thump. So close and yet so far. But at least the day wasn't a complete waste. With everything he had learned about Alfred, he would have a head start as he repeated the day again. Alfred _would_ be his. He just needed a few more tries.

* * *

A few tries turned into ten tries and then twenty. Eventually, Arthur settled on a strategic plan. He attended the groundhog festivities each morning and delivered all of his lines from memory. After the interview, he asked Alfred to show him the ice-skating rink and let Alfred teach him how to ice-skate. With each repeated day, he improved and Alfred began to remark that he was really good for a beginner. After ice-skating, they took shelter from the blizzard in the cafe, where they sipped hot cocoa and chatted.

For the latter part of the day, Arthur tried a number of different stratagems. He took Alfred to different restaurants, watched all the movies at the local theater, and even went to visit the Weather Discovery Center. (As it turned out, the museum was worth it just to see the way Alfred laughed and raced around like a kid.)

They even tried to go to the date auction, but Arthur discovered that it was cancelled at the last minute because the organizers couldn't manage to get everything set up in time and didn't have enough volunteers.

No matter what Arthur tried, the night always ended with Alfred walking him back to the bed and breakfast and wishing him goodnight on the sidewalk. Sometimes he didn't even get a goodnight kiss.

As his hopes of luring Alfred into his bed gradually dwindled, Arthur finally settled on booze as a measure of last resort. Yes, he knew how he acted when he was drunk (even if he didn't actually remember, he still heard the stories later), but it was worth a try. It wasn't like Alfred would even remember if Arthur ended up humiliating himself. And maybe Alfred also acted differently when he was a bit tipsy. After all, there was nothing better than a little Dutch courage to lower inhibitions.

* * *

Cookie's Caboose turned out to be a charming bar with stained glass lights and dark wood countertops. Colorful bottles and glasses lined the back wall, giving it an elegant air. Alfred took both their coats and hung them up by the door. Arthur found himself moderately impressed, until he tried to order a drink.

"I'll have a Cosmopolitan," he said.

The bartender gave him an apologetic look. "We mostly serve beer. I've got some hard liquor, but I don't have the ingredients for a cocktail."

"Not even a Martini?"

"Yeah, make him one of those!" Alfred agreed eagerly as he planted his butt on the stool next to Arthur's. "I wanna hear his James Bond impression!"

"Sorry, no vermouth. Usual for you, Al?"

While Alfred nodded, Arthur scoffed at the other man's suggestion. "Don't be absurd, my accent sounds nothing like Sean Connery."

"Okay, but what about one of the other Bonds?"

"There is only one Bond and his name is Sean Connery."

"Here you go," the bartender said, interrupting their spat by setting a beer in front of Alfred. He turned toward Arthur, "I've got some OJ in the back if you want a Fuzzy Navel," he offered.

"Fine." Arthur decided it was the best he was going to do. He glanced over at Alfred's drink and arched an eyebrow. "I can't believe you're drinking beer."

"What's wrong with beer?"

"Nothing. I just thought you'd prefer a _fruity_ drink."

"I like beer."

"Well, at least it gives good head," Arthur deadpanned. He chuckled as Alfred spit out some of the beer in surprise. The bartender gave Alfred an exasperated look and handed him some napkins to clean off the counter as he set Arthur's orange-flavored cocktail in front of him.

Arthur took a sip and smiled. "Mine's better. Nice and _stiff_."

While Alfred choked on another sip, Arthur continued to smirk and enjoy his drink. Despite the lack of cocktail options, the bartender was certainly generous enough with the amount of booze he added to the drink. It was good. Arthur drank one, and then another, and then spent some time contemplating his navel while Alfred prattled on about the local sports teams, appropriately called the Punxsy Chucks. Apparently he helped coach one of the high school "football" teams. It was a tidbit Arthur hadn't heard before, but it fit in with everything else he knew about the handsome American.

"...and that's when I suggested changing the name to the Punxsy Whistle-pigs," Alfred said with a grin, finishing a long-winded story that Arthur had started to ignore halfway through. Arthur felt pleasantly warm and comfortable. It was easy to just let the words swirl around his head as he smiled at Alfred and draped his arms on the counter.

"Whistle-pig?" Arthur asked, wondering if he had heard correctly.

"Yep! 's another name for a groundhog. They make this alarm noise thingie."

"Ah," Arthur replied, finding it hard to keep track of their conversation as he felt the world tilt disconcertingly to the left. A hand reached out to catch him before he slipped off his stool and he suddenly found himself much closer to Alfred. As he lounged against the American, it felt like his plan was going swimmingly well.

"My gram says it kinda sounds like an old-timey kettle."

"What kettle?"

"No, the groundhog," Alfred corrected him. His face suddenly brightened with a mischievous grin. "I could show you if you want. We sneak in, scare him, and you can tell me if it's a real kettle sound!"

"What?" Arthur blinked. "We've got electric kettles now."

Alfred sighed. "No, I'm talking about the _groundhog_."

Deciding that the American must be drunk because he wasn't making any sense, Arthur turned back to the counter and found his drink empty. He didn't remember finishing it off. In fact, many of his memories were a pleasant fuzz. All of his angst about being trapped in a never-ending time loop had disappeared in the warm glow of delicious booze.

"Arthur?" a voice broke its way through the gentle fog. "You up for it or not?"

Given his amazing tolerance, Arthur decided he could easily handle another Furry Nasal. "I drink I'd rather have another think," he replied.

"I 'drink' you've had enough. Come on, it'll be fun!" Alfred tossed some bills on the counter and pulled Arthur to his feet. The Englishman would have protested, but it was so nice to lean against Alfred's warm body that he immediately forgot what he was complaining about. He rested his head on Alfred's shoulder and let his eyes begin to droop in relaxation.

"Where we going?" Arthur asked as Alfred wrapped an arm around his waist and led him out the door. They stumbled together along the sidewalk, pulled forward by Alfred's long legs and enthusiasm despite the snow, the ice, and Arthur's boozy lack of balance.

Alfred grinned excitedly. "The groundhog, remember?"

"'Course I 'member th' little bugger," Arthur slurred angrily. Even alcohol couldn't make him forget the stupid squirrel he had to deal with every bleeding morning.

"We can sneak in like a Bond movie!"

In the cold evening air, Arthur felt a smirk cross his face. Despite the alcohol sloshing around in his brain, he still remembered the standard Bond plot. The dashing spy seduced a sexy henchwoman to learn the villain's secrets. "I could do that," he offered, letting his hand slip closer to that lovely American ass. "Pull some bird to get my way in."

Alfred gave him a blank look as they passed by the town square, now covered in a fresh layer of snow. "What do birds have to do with anything?"

"Not a damn thing," Arthur agreed with a laugh.

Before he knew it, they were crouched in front of the library's main window. On the inside, Arthur could see the groundhog exhibit. One of the creatures stared back with beady, evil eyes. Its mouth moved and Arthur could imagine hearing a diabolical chuckle.

His eyes widened with sudden realization. What if the groundhog really was a 129-year-old small mammal that drank an elixir of eternal youth? He would be capable of all sorts of devious magic. In his drunken state, Arthur decided it was the only logical explanation for his predicament. "It's the groundhog's fault!" he shouted. "Bloody groundhog!"

"Wait, what?" Alfred held him back when he tried to pound his fists against the window. As Arthur struggled in the American's arms, everything suddenly tilted ninety degrees, leaving Arthur to stare at the darkness above... or was it below?

"The sky's on the ground!" he shouted, throwing his arms around Alfred's neck. The world was spinning and moving in a disorienting way. It was like ice-skating, but dizzier. Arthur rested his head against Alfred's chest and promptly lost his train of thought as he noticed the firm muscles beneath his hand. "Ooh, _nice_."

"Thanks! You're a lightweight, you know that?"

"I'm not!" Arthur protested. "I got toler... er... wossit..."

The muscles moved up and down as Alfred chuckled. "God, you're so hammered."

Arthur grinned and meant to ask if Alfred wanted to get nailed, but the words ended up as an indecipherable mumble as he buried his face into the delicious chest.

Not long afterward, the cold air changed to warmer surroundings. A woman's voice asked a couple of worried questions, but Arthur barely noticed as he cuddled against his cute American. Before he knew it, they were in his bedroom. Arthur grinned in satisfaction; the booze had worked! For once, he had successfully brought Alfred back to his room.

Before he knew it, he was reclining on the bed and Alfred had started the process of taking off his shoes. It was a good start, until Alfred wandered off to the bathroom and Arthur had to finish undressing himself. He barely managed to kick off his boxers when Alfred returned with a glass of water and a couple of pain killers.

The glass made a satisfying shattering noise as it hit the floor.

" _Holy shi_... is that a _tattoo_?" Alfred asked as his gaze dropped down to the sweet six-string inked on Arthur's hip.

"Do you like?" Arthur arched his back into the bed and rolled his hip to the side to give Alfred a better view. The tattoo artist had done a good job, even if Arthur didn't really remember how he got it. Like many of the most interesting parts of his life, it had happened while he was drunk.

The American must have been descended from the bloody puritans because he blushed and averted his gaze. He took off his own jacket and tossed it on top of Arthur.

Seeing a perfect opportunity to make the sweet lad blush even more, Arthur wrapped the sleeves of the jacket around his waist and climbed out of bed wearing the jacket like an apron. It was too bad Alfred wasn't going to remember it, because, judging by his wide eyes and red cheeks, he would _never_ look at his jacket the same way again.

"Watch out, the glass!" Alfred shouted, leaping forward to push Arthur back onto the bed.

They landed together in a heap of limbs, with Arthur's legs draped over the edge of the bed and Alfred lying on top of him. Arthur smirked to feel a bulge pressing against his thigh. He had been starting to wonder if Alfred actually found him attractive. "Is that a _wood_ chuck or are you ready to have a go?" he purred.

"No, I shouldn't," Alfred said, but he changed his tune to a lustful moan when Arthur bucked his hips upward. " _Ahh_."

Alfred ground their hips together and kissed him roughly. He abused the Englishman's lips until they were swollen and red all while Arthur happily tangled his fingers in the American's soft hair. What Alfred lacked in technique, he certainly made up for with enthusiasm. Eager to get on with it, Arthur slipped his hands down to Alfred's shirt and tried to pull it off, then grunted in frustration when Alfred pulled away.

Alfred wiped the saliva from his lips and gave Arthur a glum look. "No. You're drunk and you're leaving tomorrow."

"I'm not the one who leaves! _You_ always leave!"

"What?" Alfred asked in confusion.

"Don't go," Arthur pleaded, feeling the tears well in his eyes. He couldn't bear it anymore. Each day they grew so close and each day Alfred slipped away. "Not again."

"I think you're thinking of someone else," Alfred replied gently.

"I'm not! It's you! It's always you!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You should go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning." After a moment's pause, Alfred added, "Well, maybe more like the afternoon. I hope your flight ain't early."

"Never gonna leave," Arthur mumbled, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. The rush of adrenaline from the kisses had rapidly faded, and now his body wanted to slumber. It felt like his body was drifting away from him.

"You're not?" Alfred asked with a hopeful tone.

"No." Arthur shook his head and closed his eyes as the ceiling started to spin. "Please stay with me." He barely noticed as Alfred moved him to a more comfortable position in the bed. Arthur sank into the pillow as Alfred pulled the blankets around him. A moment later, Arthur felt a dip in the bed as warm arms wrapped around him.

"Just until you fall asleep, okay?" Alfred promised.

Arthur nodded and curled up against the other man. Even the warmth couldn't change the hollow feeling in his chest. "Won't remember it anyway," he murmured. He wasn't sure if he meant Alfred or himself.

He fell asleep in Alfred's arms and woke up alone.

* * *

As Arthur slowly began to realize that he was never going to have a sex life again, he started to grow more desperate. It was bad enough to be stuck in Punxsutawney with its complete lack of tea, culture, and class. He didn't want to live a life of forced celibacy!

Faking an interest in Alfred's comic book collection finally unlocked the door to Alfred's bedroom, a tiny studio apartment built above his grandmother's garage. It was cluttered and disorganized, but Arthur didn't care. It had a large enough bed, and that was the only thing that mattered. The decor left something to be desired, although Arthur thought the dream catcher above the bed was a nice touch. It had been decorated with feathers and beads in a lovely shade of sky blue. Someone must have made a mistake with the beads, he realized as he looked closer, because there was a green one trapped at the center.

While Alfred chattered about Captain America, Arthur lounged on the bed and began Operation Seduction, attempt thirty-two. He took off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. He even ruffled his hair for that sexy post-coital look. When all those efforts failed to draw Alfred's attention, he grabbed a lollypop from the candy bowl and gave it a few languid licks, wetting his lips and moaning softly with pleasure.

"Did you say some...?" Alfred turned around and promptly dropped his comic book. "Wow," he breathed as his Adam's apple bobbed.

Arthur smirked seductively. Finally!

"I mean... wow! Look at the time." Alfred dragged his gaze down to his bare wrist. "You probably need to get back to your room."

"I've thought _long_ and _hard_ about it, and I think I'd rather stay. There's so much in Punxsutawney I haven't seen yet," Arthur said, dropping his eyes with a meaningful gaze directed at Alfred's crotch. He wasn't normally so direct, but Alfred didn't seem to take a hint unless he delivered it like a two-by-four.

Alfred gulped and stumbled backwards until he collided with his dresser. His eyes were as wide as saucers. "But what about the three-date rule?"

" _What_ three-date rule?"

"You're not, um, you're not supposed to make whoopee 'til date three."

Arthur buried his face in his hands. Even under that ridiculous metric, he had already put in his time. They had been on _thirty_ dates, at least! He was more than ready, but it was equally clear to him that Alfred wasn't. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Arthur felt a stab of guilt for his manipulative behavior. Pretending to like comics just to get into Alfred's bed had been a bad idea. Arthur swung his legs over the edge of the bed, buttoned his shirt, and began pulling on his shoes.

"Hey, I wasn't trying to kick you out or anything," Alfred said, giving Arthur a worried expression as he watched the Englishman get ready to leave. "I had fun today."

"So did I," Arthur agreed with a soft smile. He stood up and gave the confused American a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"Yes. You're the best thing about this town."

Alfred blushed. "Well, you haven't seen everything yet."

"I've seen more than you might think."

"I bet I can find something you haven't done."

"Yes, I'm sure you could." The Englishman smiled back and resisted the urge to point out that what _he_ wanted to do would violate Alfred's three-date rule.

"Great!" Alfred said excitedly. "I can come meet you at ten after I finish the morning weather report!"

Arthur agreed to the plan as he pulled on his coat, even though he knew it would never happen. Sometimes it was nice to pretend that he wasn't stuck in a never-ending time loop, slowly losing all hope of escape. He declined Alfred's offer to walk him back to his hotel and instead wandered around the town square lost in thought. He felt like he was trapped in a dream ... or a nightmare.

Unless he managed the impossible task of fitting three dates into one day, it seemed that he was going no further in his relationship with the handsome young American. Arthur found himself oddly depressed by the prospect and it was _more_ than just the lack of sex. He had grown rather fond of Alfred and each morning it grew more painful to see the way that Alfred treated him like a stranger. Yes, it was easy to get the American to open up to him, but it wasn't a substitute for the genuine growth that two people could experience over a period of time.

It finally occurred to Arthur to wonder what would happen to him if he was stuck in the time-loop for years on end. Would he begin to age? Would he go crazy? If it lasted for a thousand years, would he eventually forget all of his old memories in the dim mists of time? Arthur wondered if it would be possible to break the loop by killing himself, although he wasn't desperate enough to try.

He bought a cup of coffee and drank the hot bitter beverage while pacing his room. His thoughts grew progressively gloomier as he stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning. He felt trapped and antsy.

The worst part was that there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even turn his trap into something more pleasant because the one person he wanted to be with was too shy to hop into bed with a stranger. The more Arthur thought about it, the more depressed he became. One day he would know ever single detail of Alfred's life, and the American would still know only as much about _him_ as he could fit into a single day.

It was completely unfair. How could Arthur possibly fit all he wanted out of life into one day in small town America? He couldn't even find a decent cup of tea! Arthur groaned in anguish as he thought about his complete lack of scones. He would never taste his mum's baking again. He would never enjoy a warm summer's day or the crisp colors of autumn. And even though he loved to garden, he wouldn't ever see a flower blossom or hear a robin begin to chirp in frigid Punxsutawney. As the groundhog had predicted, it was going to be the winter of Arthur's discontent for... forever.

That night he stayed up until 5:59am. He stared at the numbers and his heart began to race. All this time, had it been a simple matter of waiting for the dawn?

The edges of his vision grew dark and he stared at the clock like it was the light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn't control his body any more. It felt like he was falling, falling, and he could hear a voice calling, calling, " _Babe_."

Arthur woke up with a jolt.

" _I got you babe_."

He stared at the clock with despair.

" _I got you babe_."

It was Groundhog's Day again.

* * *

Following rote habit more than anything else, Arthur skipped breakfast and wandered over to Gobbler's Knob. He had laughed the first time he saw 'Knob' in the square's name, but even puerile humor couldn't seem to reach him now. He stared at Emma and Kiku with a deadened gaze.

"Arthur! Did you have trouble finding us?" Emma asked as usual. Then she paused and gave Arthur a worried look. "...are you okay?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter? Does _any_ of this really matter?"

"Statistically speaking, no," Kiku replied. "The groundhog's predictions are only accurate 39% of the time."

"I don't think he's talking about the weather," Emma murmured. She gave Arthur an encouraging smile. "Let's get the footage from the event and then we can have a little chat afterward. I've heard the cafe here does good waffles."

"Waffles aren't going to solve my problem," Arthur griped, but he gave his memorized speech anyway. The one time he had tried to explain his problem to Emma and Kiku, they had dragged him to the local shrink who spent two hours talking with him about his feelings. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

With an exhausted sigh, Arthur watched the happy crowd and tried to remember what it felt like to be excited about something. He felt a stab of pity. Yes, he was trapped, but at least he knew what was happening. They were just re-living the same day, oblivious to the fact that they had repeated the same conversations and actions nearly fifty times.

"Hey folks! I'm Alfred! You ready to do the interview with Phil?" a voice shouted from behind. Arthur was expecting it, so he didn't even blink.

"Um, Mr. Jones, I think we'd better take a rain check," Emma replied apologetically. "Our interviewer isn't feeling very good."

Alfred gave Arthur a sympathetic smile. "Hey, no worries. Let me know if you want to film anything later today. We've got the blizzard, but the late afternoon should be clear."

"Blizzard?" Kiku asked, his voice concerned.

"Yep! Hope you guys weren't planning to leave today."

"No," Arthur said with a flat tone, earning him surprised looks from Kiku and Emma. Alfred looked secretly pleased by the news, and Arthur realized for the first time that it was so easy to convince Alfred to go on dates because Alfred was interested in him from the very first moment they met. Arthur felt like crying. The universe was playing a cruel joke on them; all of the dates in the world would never amount to anything.

"Do you need to sit down?" Emma asked him. "You look paler than normal."

"Let me show you the best coffeeshop in town!" Alfred offered. "You'll feel better with a hot cup of joe. Hey... dude?"

The concerned voices faded into background noise as Arthur's heart pounded in his ears. Despite the cold temperature, it was suddenly too warm and a wave of exhaustion threatened to send him reeling to the ground. He had slept the night before... hadn't he? His brain and the rest of his body seemed to disagree. His brain won and the world slipped into darkness.

* * *

Waking up in the bed was such a familiar sensation that it took Arthur a moment to realize that a few things were different this time. The alarm wasn't ringing, Sonny and Cher weren't singing, and he had a cold compress on his head. With a tired moan, he glanced out of the corner of his eye at the clock and saw that it was still mid-morning.

"...lique says that he hasn't taken a proper vacation in five years," Emma murmured. "They put him on this fluff piece just to make him take a break."

Kiku coughed and meaningfully glanced between Emma and Arthur, who was now fully conscious. "Arthur-san, you should drink some water," he advised, pressing a glass into Arthur's hand.

"Thanks." Arthur took the glass with a slightly unsteady hand. He used his elbow to lift himself off the pillow and slowly began to drink. The water helped clear his head. When he finished, he set the glass on the nightstand and glanced about the room.

Emma gave him a sly smile. "If you're looking for that cute American, he rushed down to the kitchen to get a few things for you after he carried you up here."

"Do you want us to call a doctor?" Kiku asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No, thank you." He sighed. "I'm sorry for being a pain this trip. You've both put a lot of work into this piece and I haven't been very appreciative."

Emma arched an eyebrow. "You didn't hit your head when you fainted, did you?"

"It hasn't been any trouble," Kiku replied politely. It was a little difficult to tell from his expression, but Arthur thought that the cameraman seemed pleased by the compliment and apology. It was the least the two deserved. Arthur felt guilty for all of the days when he had ignored them to go run off with Alfred. They might not remember, but _he_ did, and it didn't speak well of his character.

A knock on the door lightened the atmosphere, particularly when Alfred strode into the room holding a tray loaded with breakfast food and several cups of coffee.

"Hey, you're awake!" Alfred said with a pleasant smile as he set the tray on the bed next to Arthur. "Mrs. Barclay said you didn't have any breakfast this morning, so that's probably why you passed out. I'm not supposed to bring this tray back unless it's empty."

Arthur's eyes widened as he took in the sheer amount of food. There were scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and muffins, a tiny amount of fruit, and even some oatmeal. He was pretty sure it would be enough food to last him the entire day. "This is supposed to be for everyone, right?" he said glancing around the room.

"Oh, I was really hoping to try the cafe's waffles," Emma demurred. "And then Kiku and I need to fix our travel arrangements."

"I don't mind watching him if you two need to head off," Alfred offered with a cheerful smile. "I mean, I was planning to spend this time on the interview anyway."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you!" Emma gushed. "You were _so_ kind to carry Arthur back to his room. I really can't thank you enough." She giggled as Alfred blushed at the effusive praise and even had the audacity to wink at Arthur as she slipped out the door with Kiku in tow. "Good luck," she mouthed.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the heaping platter of food. "I hope you're planning to eat some of this," he said, pushing the tray towards Alfred. He had seen enough of Alfred's eating habits to know that it wouldn't be a problem to convince the American to finish off the food.

"Sure," Alfred agreed happily, grabbing one of the muffins and eating as he talked. "But you're going to have to drink the tea."

"What t—" Arthur stared in shock to see a cup of Earl Grey on the tray. It was even Twinning's brand, which wasn't his favorite, but was certainly leagues ahead of Lipton. "Where did you find this?" he gasped.

Alfred shrugged cheerfully. "One of the other guests had some tea bags and she offered it to me when she saw me running around the kitchen."

Arthur felt a brief stab of jealousy that Alfred had managed to find tea when he had failed so many times but he pushed the thought aside in favor of taking a delicious sip of hot tea. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the taste. With a blissful sigh, Arthur leaned his back against the headboard. He opened his eyes to find Alfred eating the bacon and giving him an amused look.

"You really like tea, huh?"

"Let's just say that I named my cat Earl Grey."

"Really?" Alfred grinned. "I bet he's a cutie."

"Well, he's not very fond of people. He hisses when you get into his personal space. And he doesn't purr very often."

"Yeah, but I bet he's the sweetest kitty in the world when he decides he likes you."

"He is," Arthur agreed, smiling softly as he thought about the way Earl Gray would occasionally curl into his lap when he was reading a book. The fact that his affectionate moments were infrequent meant that each one was all the more special.

They ate in silence for a few more minutes and, as Arthur had hoped, Alfred finished off most of the food on his own. Arthur felt a pang in his chest as he watched Alfred eat another slice of toast. He was so kind and generous, and it didn't seem like there was anything Arthur could do for him in return.

"Thank you for everything," Arthur said, meeting Alfred's gaze with complete sincerity. "I'm just a stranger, and you've done so much for me."

"Hey, people are just strangers until you get to know them better."

Arthur shook his head and smiled. He was such a cynic that he found it hard to believe there were people like Alfred in the world. Yet the truth was sitting right in front of him, acting just as kindly as he had every other day. For all his kindness, Alfred deserved thanks in return. "If there were something I could do for you, what would it be?"

"Oh, don't worry about it! You've already given me a breakfast!"

" _You're_ the one who brought up the breakfast tray, so that hardly counts. Isn't there something you want? Something I could do for you today?

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side.

Arthur decided to tell the truth—it wasn't like he had anything left to lose. "Let's just say, hypothetically, that I'm caught in a time loop and living the same day over and over again. If I were to make today your perfect day, what would it be?"

Alfred gave him a concerned look. "Uh... you didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No! I've honestly been repeating the same day forty times now. Look, I can prove it." Arthur took a deep breath. "You're 26 years old and you were born on July Fourth. You love to ice skate. You wrote your senior thesis on using sulfur pellets to counteract the effects of climate change, but only after you concluded that giant robots with shiny shields weren't a viable solution. You have a blue dream catcher that hangs above your bed. If you see a dog, you will pet it, and say that it was the best part of your day. You have terrible taste in movies and sometimes you chew with your mouth open. You're kind to everyone you meet, even people who don't... really deserve it."

Alfred gaped. "Dude... can you read my mind?"

"It's not mind reading. _You_ told me all that. You just don't remember because the day keeps repeating itself."

"Whoa." A normal person might wonder if Arthur was a stalker, but Alfred just leaned closer, his eyes shining with delight. "Do you think it's _aliens_?" he asked. "Or maybe you're trapped in a worm hole!"

"Wait. You actually believe me?"

"Yeah." Alfred nodded. "When I saw you... I felt like I had met you before. And when you passed out, I _knew_ I had carried you before."

"You remember that?" Arthur demanded, his voice rising in astonishment. He had thought that all memory of his drunken escapades disappeared when the day rebooted. He found himself flushing with embarrassment.

"Not really. It was more a feeling than a memory. What happened?"

"Well... we went drinking at Cookie's. You had your usual, a Yuengling lager, and I went on the piss until you carried me back here."

"Huh," Alfred scrunched up his face in thought. "I wish I could remember."

Arthur snorted. "I'm glad you can't."

"You know what? I think I should spend the rest of the day with you. As an objective witness, just to see what happens."

"Oh dear, you make it sound like a science project."

Despite Arthur's lack of enthusiasm, he was grateful to finally have someone believe him and want to help. To help Alfred 'observe' Arthur, they ended up spending most of the day lounging around Arthur's room. They chatted and played card games, and Arthur thought it was one of the best days they had spent together. If he had to spend the rest of his life living on repeat, he could do a lot worse.

"Give me your queens," Alfred said.

"What are you planning to do with her? I thought you didn't like queens," Arthur retorted in mock-annoyance as he handed over a card from his hand.

Alfred grinned. "Nah, it's kings we don't like. Speaking of which, you got any of those?"

"If you kept up on the news, you would know the answer is no. Go fish."

Arthur eked out a victory in the end and as he shuffled the cards, he realized that he had just spent an enjoyable two hours playing a child's card game with a child in a man's body. There was really only one explanation, and it shocked him. He was in love. Even worse, he was in love with someone who would always forget their time together.

"Hey, everything okay?" Alfred asked him.

"I'm fine," Arthur lied. He kept up a stiff upper lip for the rest of the day. There was no sense in ruining a lovely day. They had dinner with Kiku and Emma, who made the struggle worse for Arthur as they kept giving him sly looks across the dinner table. They didn't actually _say_ anything when he left with Alfred, but he could see it in their eyes. Little did they know that nothing was going to happen. Nothing was ever going to happen.

When the clock ticked midnight, Alfred jumped off the bed and cried with glee, "We did it! See? It's February third now!"

"It's not until 6am that the loops begins again," Arthur replied with a sad smile.

"What?!" Alfred sat back down on the bed, crossing his arms indignantly. "That's not fair! It's supposed to be midnight."

"I'm afraid not everything works the way Disney tells you."

"Damn. You up for another game of Pitch?" Alfred asked. He yawned. "Crap, I shoulda gotten some coffee."

"Don't tire yourself out on my account," Arthur replied as he flipped to the next page of his book. He had read it three times already, but he never got sick of Terry Pratchett. "Asleep, awake, I don't think it makes any difference."

"But I want to find a way to help you!"

"I know." Arthur reached over and patted Alfred's hand. "And you _have_ helped me. You've made every day better." He leaned against his pile of pillows and gave Alfred a thoughtful look as he set aside his book. "You know... you never did answer my question about your idea of a perfect day."

"Didn't I?" Alfred grinned and laid down next to Arthur on his own humungous pile of pillows. (They had raided the closet and the laundry room at Alfred's suggestion and Arthur did not feel even a smidgeon of regret.) "Well, it probably involves a warm summer day, a white sand beach, some piña coladas, and _you_ ," he suggested with an impish smile.

"That sounds wonderful," Arthur agreed, "but I'm afraid we're stuck in Punxsutawney in _February_ , so try again."

"Hmm." The American's grin slowly shifted to a thoughtful look. "Well... if it's a perfect day, then it's got to be perfect for everybody, right? If I were you, I would find everything that goes wrong during the day and figure out a way to fix it. You've got a superpower, so you could be a superhero, swooping in to save the day!"

"Of course your idea would involve superheroes," Arthur replied with a chuckle. They lapsed into silence as he returned to his novel. After a time he stopped reading and just stared at the page, seriously considering Alfred's idea. He wasn't sure there was much value to fixing something that would just go wrong again the next day, but he rather liked the idea of allowing Alfred to live his dream of being a superhero. With a little help from Arthur, he could save the day, and his enthusiasm wouldn't be dimmed by the knowledge that the day was just going to repeat again. As a few snores intruded into Arthur's musings, he glanced over and realized that Alfred had fallen asleep.

Arthur pulled a blanket over the sleeping young man and smiled at him fondly. Alfred looked so peaceful in his sleep. Even though Arthur hated living the same day over and over again, he decided that there was one part of the day he liked. Even if he was stuck in Punxsutawney forever, he was grateful that he had been given the chance to get to know the young American. Alfred was the kindest, sweetest, handsomest person he had ever met in his life. Arthur had never known anyone who was so naturally kind-hearted and friendly. And he knew that, as a somewhat bitter workaholic with a drinking problem, he didn't really _deserve_ someone like Alfred. Still, he promised himself he would try.

Arthur kissed Alfred on the forehead and whispered a promise across the pillows. "You're perfect and I swear I am going to give you the perfect day."

* * *

It took Arthur a fortnight to identify all of the problems around town that needed fixing, but time seemed to fly now that he had a purpose. Even if none of it lasted, it was still worth it to see the way people thanked him for his kindness and responded to it with more kindness in return. As Arthur worked on identifying everything that could go wrong in one day, he also recrafted his introductory description of the festivities from something bland into an elegant and informative treatise on weather folklore.

Arthur described how the traditions of Groundhog Day were cut from the same cloth as the Pagan festival of Imbolc (the seasonal turning point of the Celtic calendar, celebrated on February 1) and bore resemblance to other weather prediction holidays ranging from German traditions during Candlemas to the English lore of St. Swithun's Day. As Arthur described the greater picture, he tossed in a few amusing asides:

"Phil has even taken a few political stands during his many years. He once announced during Prohibition that, if he were kept from drinking the 'hard stuff', there would be _sixty_ weeks of winter instead of the usual six."

He ended his speech with a reminder that Groundhog's Day, like all seasonal holidays, was a celebration of the eternal cycle of the seasons. It was a promise that snow would eventually melt, bringing the water of life to the new growth of spring. Arthur's voice grew a little hoarse as he finished with a paean to his own long winter:

"When Martin warned that 'winter is coming,' he meant for winter to symbolize a life bleak and bereft of hope. But winter is just another step in the cycle of life. Standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter."

Emma and Kiku stared at him for a long moment and some of the nearby spectators even gave him a rousing round of applause.

"That was really good! How did you have time to research all that?" Emma asked.

Arthur shrugged modestly. "Oh, I found a few gaps here and there." He turned around and spotted Alfred clapping behind him with an amazed expression on his face.

"Wow. You guys still want to do the interview with Phil?" Alfred asked. "'Cause I'm not sure there's anything more we could tell you about Groundhog's Day."

"Of course we still want to do the interview," Arthur replied as he reached over to help Kiku carry some of the heavy camera equipment. "No speech is a substitute for a small and furry adorable animal. By the way, thank you for arranging it, Emma. I'm sure it will give you some wonderful footage for the show."

She blushed prettily. "It wasn't a problem at all! You know how much I love festivals centered around cute critters."

True to his word, Arthur did a bang up job with the interview and he smiled when he watched Emma and Kiku discuss their plans for the footage excitedly. If he ever got the chance, he promised himself that he would put in a good word to their supervisors. They both deserved more chances to let their talents shine.

"Hey... would you, um, be interested in getting a cup of coffee?" Alfred asked a little hesitantly after they finished the interview.

"I'll have to take a blizzard-check," Arthur replied, resisting the urge to pinch Alfred's pink cheeks as he gave the perplexed American a list of times and places that Arthur had quickly scrawled down earlier that morning. "You need to hurry up if you want to catch little Jimmy when he falls out of the tree."

Alfred's brows furrowed in confusion. "But... how...? What...?"

"Just trust me," Arthur said as he gave Alfred a gentle push in the right direction. He watched from a distance as Alfred caught the young boy and smiled at the way Alfred seemed so genuinely thrilled to help the somewhat ungrateful child. He saw Alfred glance down at the list and then dash off to fix the next problem in the nick of time.

"What was that about?" Emma asked.

"Just a favor for a friend," Arthur replied, turning around to talk to his two coworkers. "Listen, we're not going to make it out of here before the coming blizzard. Would you like to stick around for the big Groundhog bash?"

"You're not just looking for another excuse to get drunk, are you?" Emma asked.

"No, believe me, I've had enough hangovers to last me a lifetime," Arthur replied honestly. "I've heard they're low on volunteers and I was thinking that with Kiku's technical expertise and your staging experience, we could help host the most successful date auction ever." Seeing the disbelieving looks on their faces, he decided to throw in his trump card. "They're raising money for the Foundation for Cute Fluffy Animals."

"I'm in," Kiku instantly replied.

"Me too!" Emma eagerly agreed.

Helping with the organization and set-up took the rest of the afternoon and all of Arthur's considerable planning skills, but he was quite pleased with the results. And so was Alfred, judging by the stunned look on the young man's face as he walked into the exquisitely decorated community center. They had set up a dance floor and a place for a live band. Blue and silver streamers hung from the ceiling, glittering under the fairy lights. Given Phil's prediction for six more weeks of winter, Arthur thought that a winter wonderland theme was rather appropriate.

Alfred gaped as he slowly turned around and took in the whole room. "How did you manage this?" he asked in disbelief. "And how did you know that all of this stuff on the list was going to happen?"

"It's a long story," Arthur replied. "I'll tell it to you tomorrow, if you like. In the mean time... would you care for a dance?"

"Okay, but I'm gonna hold you to that promise."

"Of course," Arthur lied as the room started to fill with more people and they both looked for an open area to dance.

They both turned their heads toward the stage as they heard arguing voices backstage. Arthur threaded his way through the crowd with Alfred following closely on his heels. Both looked on with dismay when they discovered that the lead guitarist for the band had broken his arm slipping on the ice outside. Arthur sighed and added the broken arm to his ever-expanding mental list of preventable accidents. No matter how much he tried to fix, it seemed there was always something new that popped up.

"What are we going to do now?" the remaining band members asked. Unfortunately, Arthur didn't have an answer for them. The distinguished old gentleman were the only musicians he had been able to find on rather short notice.

"Wait... don't _you_ play the guitar?" Alfred asked Arthur. He had a confused look on his face, like he wasn't quite sure how he knew about Arthur's musical talents.

"Yes, but—" was all Arthur managed to reply before he found himself dragooned into the band as its new guitarist and forced into a very quick practice session. He soon found himself on stage, holding an unfamiliar guitar and staring at the bright lights. He looked for a familiar face in the crowd and smiled when he found it. As they started to play, Arthur lost himself in the joy of the music. His only regret was that he had lost a chance to dance with Alfred.

When the date auction began an hour later, Arthur prepared to step offstage, only to find himself pulled back on as the first eligible bachelor. "Wait a second!" he protested to Kiku. "I didn't sign up for this!"

"Trust me," Kiku replied with an enigmatic smile.

Perhaps it was his guitar skills, or maybe it was the 'British accent' that Americans loved so much, but the bids for a date with Arthur Kirkland quickly jumped higher and higher, drawing close to one-hundred dollars. He listened to two women create a small bidding war and wondered if it would be wrong of him to schedule the date for February _third_ , secure in the knowledge that it would never actually happen.

"Three hundred thirty-nine dollars and eighty-eight cents!" a masculine voice suddenly shouted from the middle of the room, stopping the bidding war in its tracks.

"Sold!" the auctioneer cried, and the crowd parted to reveal the man who had placed the winning bid. It had all happened so quickly, Arthur was still in a daze as the American reached for his hand and pulled him off stage.

"Sorry. I just couldn't stand the thought of either of them going on a date with you," Alfred explained, giving Arthur a bashful smile as the crowd clapped.

"That's quite all right," Arthur replied, smiling back. As the bidding started for the second bachelor, he led Alfred away from the crowded dance floor. "I didn't fancy the idea either. A wise person once told me that it's a bad idea to go on a date with someone if you know it isn't going to mean anything."

"Huh. My grandma says the same thing."

Arthur chuckled and pulled the American toward the coat racks. "Come on, we need to hurry if you're going to get your money's worth before the end of the night."

Remembering their wonderful first date, Arthur led the American to the ice skating rink. They chatted happily as they laced up their skates and then glided across the ice in graceful tandem. It was like they were dancing. They swirled and switched places, drawing admiring glances from the few other people on the ice. Arthur even made Alfred gasp when he executed a perfect jump and landed nimbly on his skates.

"Dude! You're amazing!"

"I had a wonderful teacher."

They didn't stop skating until their cheeks were flushed and they were both out of breath. It was all of the dizzy euphoria of drinking with none of the nasty side effects. They sat down on the nearest bench, thighs pressed together as they leaned close. They didn't really need to huddle to stay warm, but Arthur certainly wasn't going to complain about the close contact. He looked into Alfred's beautiful eyes and felt his insides melt with the warmth of the affectionate gaze. Acting on their unspoken desires, both leaned in for a kiss. It was warm and sweet and _perfect_. Arthur would have been happy to stay in an endless loop of that single kiss. Yet as they leaned back, a few snowflakes began to fall, sparkling white against the dark sky.

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. "That... that's never happened before," he murmured to himself.

"What? You haven't seen snow?" Alfred teased. He leaned in for another kiss and Arthur happily obliged. He felt like he was fifteen again, caught up in the excitement of young love. Everything was new and fresh, which was quite a miracle, given that he had lived the same day more than sixty times before. This time when they pulled back, Alfred glanced down at his watch and frowned. "Crap, it's almost nine."

"Did you need to get back to your grandmother?" Arthur asked, giving Alfred a gentle pat on the hand. "Don't worry. We can continue this tomorrow," he lied, feeling his heart break a little at the thought of Alfred leaving him yet again.

"No." Alfred blushed. "I was thinking that there were maybe some, um, things at the store I might want to buy depending on how this date goes... but it closes at nine."

Although Arthur normally prided himself on his intelligence, it took him a few moments to realize what Alfred was saying. The longer he stared, the darker Alfred's blush grew, until the lad was beet red. As Alfred opened his mouth, probably to apologize for what he had suggested, Arthur pressed a finger against his lips and put the young man's fears to rest. "If you're thinking of condoms and lube, I can assure you that I have both."

"Really?" Alfred grinned. "You really want to?"

"More than you could possibly imagine," Arthur murmured, just before he pressed the American down onto the bench and kissed him senseless.

Alfred responded eagerly, slipping his deft hands under Arthur's coat. His large hands felt warm compared to the bracing cold air. A moment later Alfred bolted up with a sudden realization. "Wait! There's one more thing. Can I meet you at your room in fifteen minutes?" he asked.

Despite his confusion, Arthur nodded. "Barclay's, room three!" he called, feeling rather puzzled as he watched Alfred dash off through the snow. The date had been going so well, and now he wasn't sure what was running through Alfred's head.

Seeing nothing else to do, Arthur returned to his room and changed into something more comfortable. He waited and wondered.

Ten minutes later, a breathless American knocked on his door with a grocery bag in one hand and a smile on his face. He closed the door behind him and took off his coat. "Sorry I ran off like that," Alfred said as pulled out a small plastic carton filled with shriveled brown fruit. "But I had to get these for you."

"You bought me... dried plums?" Arthur asked, his brows scrunched in confusion. Even after all of their time together, Alfred still found ways to surprise him.

"No, they're dates."

"Dates?" Arthur stared for a moment longer, before realization dawned. " _Oh_. I see... Well, there are definitely more than three of them."

"Yeah." Alfred looked bashful and hopeful and dashing all at the same time.

Arthur opened the package and took a bite of one of the dates. He chewed the sweet fruit thoughtfully as a smile crossed his lips. "You know," he said when he finished chewing, "There isn't a magical number of dates required before sex." He paused and ate another date. "The only question is what both of us want." He stepped closer to Alfred and finished off a third. "And I just want you to know that I want you so badly it hurts."

The rest of the dates tumbled to the ground when Alfred scooped Arthur into his arms, smothering him with kisses as he carried the Englishman to the bed. Arthur tried to remember every sweet touch and each lingering caress, all of the delicious moans and whispered promises. He tried to keep a slow pace, to let them both savor the delicious kisses and gentle embrace. But both soon lost themselves in the heat of the moment, building up to a breathless climax and collapsing onto the bed in a blissful euphoria.

With a satiated smile, Arthur curled next to Alfred under the blankets and watched as the love of his life drifted off to sleep. Even if he was stuck in a Pennsylvania winter forever, he knew he would cherish this sweet moment of love-making for all of eternity.

* * *

" _I got you, I won't let go_ ," the alarm crooned. " _I got you to love me so. I got you babe_."

Arthur blinked in the early morning light. His head felt clearer than usual, but when he glanced over at the clock, it still said 6am. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and imagined Alfred kissing him. A second later, he felt a light brush of lips against his forehead and someone reached across him to turn off the alarm.

"Oops, guess the boys forgot to switch the tape yesterday." Alfred smiled at Arthur, who could only stare back at him in amazement. "I need to do the morning weather report, but what do you say to meeting back here at ten?"

Unable to find his voice, Arthur simply nodded. He watched Alfred gather his crumpled clothes from the floor and get dressed. While Alfred used the bathroom, Arthur wrapped a sheet around his waist and walked over to the window. There was no one gathered at the town square and the streets were covered in snow. "It's tomorrow," he whispered in sheer amazement. Today was _tomorrow_. Well, today was today, but it was yesterday's tomorrow. He brushed the semantics aside. He knew what he meant.

While Arthur was still staring out the window, Alfred swung by for another kiss. "See you soon!" he called cheerfully, waving as he headed out the door. "You still owe me an explanation for that list, you know."

"Of course," Arthur replied with a smile, resisting the urge to jump for joy. After Alfred left, he crawled back into the warmth of the bed and grinned happily. It was the first day of the rest of his life, and he couldn't be more thrilled. Arthur knew where he would start. It was time to cash in some of his accumulated vacation days. He was going to book a room for two at a beach resort on a tropical island with an endless supply of sunny days and piña coladas. After such a long winter, he desperately wanted to go somewhere warm. And, more importantly, after everything Alfred had done for him, the kind American deserved at least _two_ perfect days.

* * *

The End...?


	3. Epilogue

After two weeks spent waiting for Arthur to request a transfer to the BBC's New York office, Alfred was more than ready for their tropical vacation. He still didn't remember asking for a tropical trip, but Arthur insisted that he _had_ , and the Englishmen was equally insistent that they go on the trip as soon as possible; he explained that after nearly seven extra weeks of winter, he was desperate for some much-needed warmth. Taking advantage of last-minute cancellations, they even managed to find reasonably priced airfare and lodging at a ritzy resort in the British Virgin Islands.

On their first full day of vacation, Alfred stretched and sighed happily as he woke to the smell of the ocean breeze and the sound of waves crashing outside their hotel window. Taking care not to wake Arthur, he slipped out from underneath the silky sheets and padded across the warm tile floor to the balcony.

The view was amazing. Beautiful turquoise water lapped gently onto pure white sand. Brilliant green palm fronds stretched across the semi-circle of the bay, creating a lovely line between the clear blue seas and the stunning blue skies. A few puffy clouds ambled on the edge of the horizon, but Alfred wasn't worried. He had already checked the weather and knew that their entire week would be filled with sunny days. This was the sort of place that didn't really need a weatherman, which was too bad because Alfred would have liked to stay. Their resort room was a sumptuous oasis of Caribbean charm, with high wooden ceilings, comfortable wicker furniture, and ocean prints on the walls.

He turned around and started looking for the coffee pot. It turned out to be a single-serve machine with pods to make either coffee or tea. He was glad to see it—Arthur had been a little worried about the tea situation.

Speaking of Arthur, the best part of the vacation was still sleeping in the wonderful king-sized bed. They had been tired after a day of flying, but not so tired that they hadn't christened it the night before, which probably explained why Arthur was still happily dozing with his cheek pressed against the pillow and a slight smile on his face. Alfred wondered if it was creepy to take a picture of your own sleeping boyfriend, decided that it wasn't, and quickly snapped the shot.

He was still sipping his coffee and setting the picture as his background when he heard rustling sheets. He glanced up and smiled to see Arthur sitting up with half of his hair sticking to one side. It was the cutest bedhead Alfred had ever seen in his life.

"I smell coffee," Arthur said drowsily, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head. "There better be tea."

"There is," Alfred replied, leaning in for a quick kiss before he started to brew a mug for Arthur. "And they've got a machine that even I can't mess up."

Arthur's lips quirked upward in a slight, teasing grin. "Well then, it _must_ be paradise," he said approvingly.

"True, although I was expecting more British virgins," Alfred teased back. He laughed and ducked when Arthur threw a pillow.

Wearing nothing more than their boxers, they sipped their hot drinks outside on the balcony, both silent as they admired the view. Alfred would have been okay to spend the entire day with Arthur relaxing on the beach, but there was a whole lot of other stuff to do and it seemed a shame to waste it.

They decided to start with snorkeling, although Arthur flushed a little as he admitted that he wasn't a particularly strong swimmer. Fortunately for them, the resort guides were more than happy to make sure they stayed in shallow areas. They also watched Arthur carefully and Alfred tried to be grateful instead of jealous that so many people were staring at his exceptionally cute boyfriend when the Brit stuck his head in the water. The beautiful tropical fish were worth the effort, even if the guides rolled their eyes each time Alfred shouted that he had seen Dory. He kept looking for Nemo, until one of the guides finally reminded him that clownfish lived in the Pacific ocean.

Alfred would have been happy to spend all day snorkeling. The fish looked like jewels swimming through the stunning clear water. He was amazed that they would swim right up to his face, perfectly happy to share the ocean.

But eventually his growling stomach called him back to shore, where he found Arthur waiting for him with a couple of drinks.

Alfred accepted one and grinned. "Piña coladas? How did you know?"

"You told me," Arthur replied.

"Huh. Good job, past me," Alfred said, clinking his glass against Arthur's as they both took a sip of their coconut and rum cocktails. It was still strange adjusting to the fact that Arthur knew so much about him because of the Brit's time-loop adventures, but Alfred knew the only way to remedy the imbalance was to focus on learning more about Arthur.

They had a filling dinner at an outdoor grill—fish, of course, although not the tropical species they had just been admiring—as Alfred quizzed Arthur on his childhood, hobbies, and favorite _everything_.

"The Princess Bride? Really?" Alfred grinned. "Or are you just a fan of strong farmboys with blond hair and blue eyes?"

"Cary Elwes is an excellent actor," Arthur said primly.

"Yeah, though Men in Tights was my fave. He's got a much cuter accent in it. Man, when we get back we should do a movie night."

"As you wish," Arthur agreed, and it took all of Alfred's willpower to finish the meal and wait for their bill, when he really wanted to just race back to their room. Even the ice cream couldn't tempt him to stay, not when he had a far more scrumptious treat planned... in bed. He got his wish soon enough.

By the time Arthur was done with him, Alfred felt like he had melted into a pool of languid happiness. The fan at the top of the room gently cooled their sweat-slicked brows.

Grinning like a fool, Alfred reached over to stroke Arthur's pink cheek. It felt warm to the touch. "I can't decide if this is the piña coladas or a sun burn," he murmured.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It was one drink. I'm not that much of a light weight."

"Yeah," Alfred slid his fingertip along Arthur's long neck and bare shoulders, noticing that both had a pink hue. "I think you're right. The sunscreen must have worn off while we were snorkeling."

"Well, if I'm too sunburnt to go outside tomorrow, I think I have a _few_ plans for what we could do inside."

Alfred laughed and drifted off to sleep with Arthur curled next to him.

* * *

When he glanced over at Arthur the next morning, it looked like his concerns about the sunburn were overblown. Arthur's skin was back to its normal shade of pale and the Brit was sleeping deeply with his cheek pressed against the pillow.

Alfred admired the view again and made his morning cup of coffee. He hadn't really noticed the other night (being distracted with other, ahem, pressing matters), but the maids had done an impressive job with the cleaning, leaving the entire bedroom and bathroom spick and span. They have even put his toiletries back into his bag. Arthur would certainly be pleased. Glancing over at Arthur, he noticed the Brit begin to shift and slowly start to wake. Anticipating Arthur's desires, he made a cup of tea and handed it to Arthur, earning him a grateful smile.

"Beach today?" Alfred suggested.

"Just so long as you don't expect me to do more than wade," Arthur agreed. He seemed amused when Alfred insisted on coating him thickly with sunscreen, but didn't complain when strong American fingers rubbed the lotion onto nearly every inch of his body.

The water was once again perfect. Alfred splashed to his heart's delight while Arthur lounged under an umbrella and read a book. He didn't seem to be making it very far into the novel. Alfred suspected it was because Arthur was too busy ogling his strong, muscular body, but each time he glanced back, Arthur's gaze was firmly planted on the page. By the time Alfred was ready for a mid-afternoon snack, he returned to find Arthur napping with the book sprawled across his chest. Smiling fondly, Alfred took another photo to add to his collection. He was going to call it Sleeping Cutie, not that anyone other than him would have the chance to see them.

Alfred carefully lifted the book off of Arthur's chest, double-checked to make sure that Arthur was still completely covered by the shade of the umbrella, and then went off to buy a snack.

Lounging in a nearby beach chair with an overpriced ice cream cone in one hand and Arthur's book in the other, Alfred decided to get a sense of Arthur's taste in literature. Within moments, he was blushing furiously, amazed that Arthur could read kinky erotica on a public beach with a straight face. Or maybe 'straight' face wasn't the best description. It was hardcore gay erotica that would make the leather-clad bikers at a gay pride parade blush. Alfred grinned and mentally took notes.

When Arthur finally woke up from his nap, he snatched back his book and complained that Alfred should have woken him. "I don't want to waste the whole trip sleeping."

"Hey, it's vacation! You should get as much shut-eye as you want."

"That wasn't what you said last night," Arthur retorted.

Alfred laughed and shook his head fondly. "Well, yeah. It'd be a shame to use that nice bed just for sleeping." He grinned. "Man, I hope they have soundproof walls."

"Me, too."

* * *

Under the pleasant shade of the palm-lined streets, they biked along the circumference of the island. There weren't any cars on the island and it was easy to maneuver around the occasional golf cart. Alfred enjoyed the warm breeze in his hair and the delectable sight of Arthur biking in short-shorts ahead of him.

He'd always felt a bit bad about focusing on the physical attributes of the people he was interested in. He didn't want to see them as a pair of long legs with a cute butt and lean hips. They were people, with hopes and dreams! And Alfred thought it diminished the importance of discovering each other's personality and compatibility to have sex early in a relationship. But Arthur, incredible, sweet, awesome Arthur, was taking all of his preconceived notions and making him toss them out the window.

Every time Arthur opened his mouth, Alfred fell a little more in love. It was a love that encompassed him completely—mind, body and soul. He wanted everything Arthur had to offer, and he wanted to give him everything in return.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he barely noticed when they finished the loop around the island. Arthur slowed down and hopped off his bike. He turned around to smile at him and Alfred nearly ran into a tree.

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you didn't get too much sun?" Arthur asked as he turned to the next page in his book. "You looked a little dazed at the end of our bike ride."

"Yeah, I'm positive! I left my other pair of sandals on the balcony yesterday, and now they aren't there at all." Alfred looked around the floor and even glanced under the bed.

"Maybe you should check your suitcase," Arthur suggested.

" _Fine_." Alfred opened the bag and reached inside. His eyes widened as he found his sandals tucked into the back pocket. He stared at them, dumbfounded. "I coulda swore I left them by the door..." he trailed off.

"See? I told you so." Arthur didn't even glance up from his book. 

"Do you think the maids moved them?"

"I doubt it. I think you've just gotten too much sun."

Feeling a strange sense of foreboding, Alfred gave in when Arthur suggested staying inside for the rest of the day. Fortunately, he soon found himself distracted entirely and didn't give his unexplainable memory lapse another thought for the rest of the night.

* * *

Waking up before Arthur for the third day in a row was a pleasant surprise. Alfred had always assumed that the Englishman was an early riser, but it seemed that the vacation was a sorely needed chance to make up on lost sleep. Alfred didn't mind. He liked how young and relaxed Arthur looked in his sleep, his face bathed in the warm honey of the mid-morning sunlight.

When he noticed Arthur start to shift, he leaned forward and woke him up completely with a gentle kiss on the lips. "Vacationing must be good for you. You're getting to be a regular sleepyhead," Alfred said with a smile.

"Less talking. More tea," Arthur replied drowsily. He yawned as he arched backward in a slight stretch.

Alfred made the tea before the coffee and they drank them while poring over the guide books for new ideas. "Looks like there's a great view from the center of the island," he mentioned, growing more alert as he felt the caffeine pump through his veins. "It says the trail can get kinda muddy after it rains, but it's been clear weather for the past few days, so we should be fine."

Excited by the hike, Alfred reached into his suitcase for a tank top and shorts and was surprised when he found the same clothes he had worn the day before at the top of his bag. "Huh. That's weird," he murmured.

He heard Arthur's footsteps behind him. "What is?"

"The maids keep putting clothes back into my bag."

"Are you sure? I can't imagine they would have done that during the turndown service last night. Maybe there's a polite ghost who dislikes your clutter."

Even though he could tell that Arthur was teasing him, Alfred still shivered. Feeling a cold chill in the air, he dug into his bag with renewed determination until he found the leather pouch at the bottom. Pulling the decorated willow hoop out of the bag and holding it in his hand filled him with an immediate sense of relief.

"You brought your dream catcher," Arthur said with surprise.

"Yeah." Alfred flushed slightly, keeping his gaze focused on the hoop in his hand. "Wait, how did you know...?"

"You showed me your comic book collection during one of the loops."

Alfred jumped up in excitement and turned around to face Arthur. "I didn't know you liked comic books!"

"I don't," Arthur quickly replied. "I just wanted to get into your room."

"Ah." He knew that Arthur had been more interested in a purely carnal relationship at the beginning of the time loops, although he found that hard to believe given the tenderness he saw in Arthur's smiles. Disliking the awkward silence, Alfred changed the subject. "My grandmother made it for me. Did I ever tell you that she's Ojibwe?"

Arthur sounded intrigued. "No, you didn't."

"Yeah, when I was little I took it everywhere. I even took it to sleepovers. The other kids made fun of me, but there was no way I could listen to ghost stories without it."

"Apparently that hasn't changed," Arthur teased gently as he leaned in for a closer look. "Hmmm. That's odd."

"What is?"

"Oh, the bead at the center. I thought it was green."

"Nah, it's always been a blue one in the center. The green one is over here, see?" Alfred tapped a bead at the intersection of several strings. "The colors shift in the light, so you probably just saw it in bad lighting." He gently slipped the dream catcher back into its protective pouch and changed into his hiking clothes.

"I suppose you're right," Arthur agreed as they left on the hike.

* * *

The first mile was absolutely lovely. Birds chirped, butterflies swooped from flower to flower, and a gentle ocean breeze provided some cool air underneath the humid canopy. As they moved deeper towards the center of the island, the air grew stagnant and damp. Alfred's boots squelched in the mud, making each stop a little bit harder.

They paused for a breather at the second mile marker and both took a long drink of water. It wasn't cold, but at least it was wet.

"Only one more mile," Alfred promised, although Arthur looked less than thrilled.

"Why did I let you talk me into this?" the Englishman mumbled as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Come on, it's not that bad," Alfred replied as they resumed walking on the narrow, muddy path. "It couldn't be more than 85 in here. 90 tops!"

"What's that in a sensible metric?"

"Uh..." Alfred frowned in concentration. "Subtract 32... 53... times by 5... 265... divide by 9..." he trailed off. "It's too hot to math."

They took another water break. Despite the heat and humidity, the depths of the forest were filled with beautiful, lush plants and brilliant flowers. Some portions were so thick with vines that it was almost impossible to see the sky above.

Arthur's gaze seemed focused closer to the ground. "Good lord. I'm sweating from my forearms. I don't think you're supposed to sweat from your forearms."

"Don't worry, it'll be worth it," Alfred promised, although he was starting to grow a little worried himself.

He needn't have. They found a wonderful stone outcropping at the end of the trail and were immediately greeted with a cool ocean breeze coming over the tops of the trees. Climbing chiseled steps to the top of the boulders, they finally reached the highest point of the island. From their excellent vantage, they could see the turquoise waters of the bay fade into the dark blue ocean surrounding them in all directions. Distant islands topped the horizon. The forest spread out like a blanket beneath them; and it was green, green, everywhere, in all of its beautiful, verdant hues. Even better, they had it all to themselves.

* * *

"I'm going to miss this," Alfred said with a fond smile as they prepared for the long trek back to the resort.

"Me too. Especially the breezes."

"No, I mean our vacation. I can't believe it's already half over,"

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you? It's only our first day."

"Uh... what are you talking about? We did snorkeling the first day, and then the beach and biking the second day, and today's our third day."

Arthur jerked to a stop on the narrow path, making Alfred almost run into him. The Englishman turned around and gave Alfred an incredulous look. "We didn't do any snorkeling or biking. We got here yesterday."

"Look, I can prove that we've been here multiple days!" Alfred pulled out his phone and turned it on. He didn't have a cellphone plan outside the United States, but he could still show Arthur his pictures. He frowned as he noticed that the background had gone back to its earlier image of his favorite superhero instead of Arthur's sleeping face. His mouth dropped into an 'o' of surprise when he found that he didn't have either picture of Arthur sleeping. "I don't understand," Alfred said as he stared at his phone in shock.

He felt Arthur's warm hand against his forehead. "Do you feel feverish or anything? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'm not sick," Alfred insisted, as he tried to think of a way to prove that the days really happened. A flash of inspiration struck. "Your favorite movie is The Princess Bride."

Arthur frowned. "You could have guessed that..."

"But I didn't. You told me!"

"I don't remember..."

"It's true! Please believe me," Alfred begged.

"I do," Arthur said as his eyes widened with fear.

"You do?"

"I think you're stuck in a time loop," Arthur whispered.

"Holy shit." That was not the explanation Alfred had been prepared for, although it did explain why his belongings kept moving back into his suitcase. He shook his head in confusion. "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know. I don't even know why it happened the first time!"

Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur. "Hey, it's gonna be okay," he promised, although he wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure Arthur or just trying to reassure himself. "It's hardly the end of the world if I get an extra long vacation. And it's gotta end eventually. You found a way to end your loop, right?"

"Yes..."

"So I'll just do what you did." Alfred pulled away from the embrace and gave Arthur a grin. "What was your plan on the last day?"

"I wanted to give you a perfect day."

"Awww..." Alfred's heart melted at the sweetness. He gave Arthur another hug. "I'm going to give you the best day ever!"

Arthur still looked shocked and distressed, but he managed to give Alfred a wry smile. "Well, I suppose you have one advantage."

"What's that?"

"Your backdrop is a tropical paradise. I was stuck in Punxsutawney in winter."

Alfred laughed and wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist. The forest path wasn't really wide enough to walk side-by-side, but he did it anyway. "That's something I guess."

The way back was, if possible, even more hot and humid then before. They nearly finished off the last of their water with a mile left to go and Alfred barely managed to grab Arthur's arm before he could fall and twist his ankle in the mud.

"Thanks," Arthur said, giving him a wan smile as he wiped the dripping sweat from his brow. "For the record, if we're going to be stuck here for an eternity, I would prefer if we skip the sweltering hikes."

They spent the rest of the day making plans for everything Arthur wanted to do on the island, beginning with the horticulturist's tour of the manicured gardens and ending with a campfire on the beach. Alfred had a few ideas of his own to make the day perfect, including a boat tour to learn the pirate history of Dead Chest Island. It sounded like an awesome day. He just hoped it would be enough.

At Arthur's suggestion, he broke a pencil on the nightstand so he could tell at a glance whether the time loop was broken. Even though he worried that he would spend the entire night fretting, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Hot and humid hikes were good for one thing at least.

* * *

As soon as he woke up, Alfred glanced at the nightstand. The pencil was unbroken. He sat up slowly and tried not to groan. Arthur was still blissfully asleep next to him, giving Alfred a few minutes to carry out his plan. He carried a phone out to the balcony and made the necessary calls, including an order to room service.

Alfred slipped back into bed just as Arthur was waking up. He handed the sleepy Englishman a cup of tea (a dash of milk, no sugar) and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Good morning," Arthur replied with a yawn and a smile. "There does indeed seem to be a lot of sunshine."

"Yep! It's gonna be a beautiful day."

"Oh?" Arthur leaned back into his pillow and took another sip of tea. "What's the plan?"

"Gardens. Lunch. Pirates. Dinner. Campfire!" Alfred said, rattling off the list he had memorized the night before.

"I see." Arthur set his mug down on the nightstand and gave Alfred a concerned look. "Alfred, I appreciate you going to the trouble of coming up with a day designed around my tastes, but the point of the vacation was doing something _you_ wanted, remember?"

"Yeah, and I'm happy when you're happy." He saw the corners of Arthur's mouth begin to turn down and added, "And we'll do everything I want tomorrow, okay?"

"All right," Arthur gave in.

They both glanced toward the door when they heard a loud knock. "Room service!" a voice called.

"Come in!" Alfred called back. He smiled as the resort employee wheeled in a tray with two croissants, fresh fruit, and a side of bacon. The delicious scent wafted through the room, making Alfred's mouth water.

"This really isn't necessary," Arthur said as soon as the employee left them with the food, though Alfred could see his longing expression as he glanced at the perfectly golden, flaky croissant.

"Don't worry. I said that we'd put in an order for the pastry breakfast the night before and I wanted to know why it was half an hour late. They were very apologetic for the delay and said it was on the house."

"You didn't!" Arthur gasped with delight. "That sounds like something _I_ would do." The Englishman took the croissant from the plate and bit into it happily. (Arthur _had_ in fact suggested the idea, just as a way to get their breakfast delivered faster, but Alfred wasn't going to tell him that.)

After a leisurely breakfast they wandered over to the gardens and listened to the resort's horticulturalist give a tour. She discussed the different varieties of tropical plants and flowers, explaining which ones attracted butterflies and which ones could be grown as houseplants for those living in somewhat colder climates. Arthur seemed absolutely enthralled by the topic, and Alfred found himself enjoying the tour just so he could see the happy look on Arthur's face and listen to the Englishman quiz the horticulturalist about the different plants.

By the time it was over, Alfred was more than ready for lunch. They picnicked on the beach and then joined the boat tour headed for Dead Chest Island. According to legend, it was the island where the British pirate Blackbeard (true name: Arthur Teach) was thought to have abandoned fifteen of his men with only a bottle of rum, giving rise to the famous song "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum."

Although Alfred had felt fine while the boat was plowing its way through the waves, he began to feel queasy as soon as the ship anchored next to the island. With the swell of the ocean waves, the ship rocked up and down, up and down, up and down.

"Are you feeling all right?" Arthur asked, ignoring the guide as Alfred gripped the railing for dear life.

"Nooo..." Alfred moaned, feeling increasingly dizzy as he looked at the rippling waves.

He felt an arm wrap around his waist and steady him. "It helps to look at the horizon," Arthur suggested.

Taking the suggestion, Alfred looked up at the distant horizon but it didn't stop his lunch from coming up moments later. He retched over the side of the boat, heaving until even his breakfast was a distant memory. The only upside was that his glasses managed to stay on his face and his stomach felt less queasy once he was finished.

Arthur offered him a sip of water. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you got seasick."

"Neither did I," Alfred admitted. "I'm okay when the boat is moving, but this rocking. Ugh," he groaned and leaned into Arthur's side, feeling so miserable that he didn't even think about the fact that he probably still smelled like vomit.

The other passengers gave them a wide berth as the guide ferried them to shore in a smaller boat. Alfred almost kissed the ground in gratitude. He plopped down into a beach chair and tried not to think about the fact that he would need to get on the boat again to go back to their resort island. Although he tried to encourage Arthur to stick with the tour, the Brit insisted on staying by his side.

"I'm sure it's not very good. The guide has already gotten at least three things wrong about Blackbeard."

Despite his lingering queasiness, Alfred chuckled. "Kinda surprised you didn't stop to correct him."

"I would have, but I had my hands a bit full," Arthur replied with a fond look.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

"I know. But today wasn't very good." Alfred sighed and leaned back in the chair. Since the pirate tour would need to get crossed off the planning list, he wondered if he should tell this day's Arthur about the time loop. Glancing over and seeing Arthur smile back at him, he decided against it. He didn't want to upset him again unnecessarily when it would be easy enough to ask him what he wanted to do without revealing his motivations.

Arthur reached over and clasped Alfred's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry. Tomorrow will be better."

* * *

After a happily vomit-free ride back to the resort's island, Alfred took a quick shower and brushed his teeth. Feeling somewhat human again, he crawled into their large, soft bed and napped. As the light outside began to fade, he woke up and saw that Arthur had spent the time reading out on the balcony. It was probably a good thing that he was trapped in a time loop because he had wasted most of their day.

"Do you feel up to dinner?" Arthur asked when he noticed that Alfred was awake.

"Not really," Alfred admitted. His stomach grumbled pathetically, reminding him that he was hungry. Even though most food didn't sound appetizing, he could think of one thing he still wanted to eat. "I could go for some ice cream."

Arthur laughed. "Then an ice cream dinner it is!"

* * *

They curled up together in a hammock not too far from the beach campfire and watched the flames flicker and glow beneath the starry sky. Alfred had felt well enough to make a tasty s'more earlier, but now he wanted to do nothing other than relax and enjoy the comforting warmth of Arthur pressed against his side. It was a beautiful evening and the Englishman looked absolutely gorgeous by firelight, with his sparkling eyes and golden hair. And beneath that lovely exterior was an equally kind soul.

Alfred had just known from the moment he met Arthur that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. But after Arthur's somewhat traumatic experience with the time loop he wondered if it was too soon in the relationship to admit his strong feelings to Arthur. He didn't want to make Arthur feel trapped into staying with him just because he had helped him find his way out of the time loop. But then again, maybe it was fate if he was the one who held the key to ending the loop.

As those difficult thoughts raced through his head, Alfred caught Arthur's glance, returned it with a fond look, and leaned in for an eager kiss.

"Penny for your thoughts," the Brit whispered.

"I was thinking about our first kiss," Alfred admitted. "That evening outside the skating rink. Do you remember, right before it started to snow?"

"I remember," Arthur said fondly.

"You had such a lovely, peaceful expression on your face. I knew that you wanted me for me and not anything else. I just had to kiss you."

Arthur carded his fingers through Alfred's hair and sighed. "I wish you could remember all of the earlier ones. The very first was after we made snow angels."

Alfred grinned. "Snow angels, really?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"It seems so weird to talk about snow here."

"I know. I'm so happy to feel _warm_ again."

"I'll always keep you warm," Alfred promised. He sucked in his breath and decided to take the plunge. "I love you. I've known I loved you since that first kiss."

Arthur gasped. "...you did?"

"Yep."

"I don't know when I fell in love with you," Arthur admitted, his voice whisper quiet. "It happened so slowly that I didn't notice until one day I knew I didn't want anyone other than you. I love you, too."

Arthur pressed his cheek against Alfred's chest and they fell asleep together in the hammock by the light of the warm campfire.

* * *

Alfred woke up with a crick in his neck, a pain which was readily explained by the fact that he had slept in an uncomfortable hammock. He glanced to the side and noticed the sun start to rise on the horizon.

"Hey," he whispered into Arthur's ear. "Look at that."

They enjoyed the dawn together and went back to their comfortable king-sized bed. This time, when Alfred broke the pencil, it stayed broken. It had never been about creating a perfect day, he realized. It was about recognizing that he was head-over-heels in love, and then admitting it both to himself and to Arthur. As long as he had that, every day was perfect.


End file.
